Final Fantasy VII Drabbles
by Fairheartstrife
Summary: Collection of drabbles and snippets involving the FFVII characters. Mainly Cloti. Adding some prompts from LiveJournal Springkink. Lots of smut!
1. Chapter 1

AN: Written for the beautiful and uber talented Motchi's OTP war thread.

center--/center

"You need to let me fail."

The hand chopping onions for dinner paused. "What?"

He stared at the cutting board and the glint of steel kissing onion. Maybe doing this while she had a knife in her hand wasn't the wisest of choices. He dared a furtive glance at her face. Scratch maybe. _Definitely_ not the wisest choice, but he hedged on regardless.

"I need you to stop being so protective of me," he continued, fumbling for the right words. Words he had practiced on Fenrir over broken roads and dusty trails a hundred times, but now seemed scattered on the same. "You've always been so damn patient with me. Always had my back." He risked another glance.

Her head was cocked, but she wasn't looking at him, she had resumed her chopping; listening.

"And I know you thought that was what I needed, but honestly, Tifa..." He scratched the back of his neck, hip coming to rest against the counter. "Things between us probably would have been easier if you'd rushed me, or been pushier...or just smacked me upside the head--"

"I could try that," she interrupted, irritation evident in the slight flare of her nostrils.

This wasn't going at all like he'd planned. "What I'm trying to say is that I don't want you to always be there for me--"

A sharp hiss of breath and a splash of red against the cutting board drew his attention. "Tifa!" he exclaimed, grabbing for her.

She jerked back with a scowl. She yanked her hand towel from the counter, wadded it against her fingers and turned her back to him.

"Let me see." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, but she stubbornly refused to turn.

"No."

"You're hurt."

"Yes," she winced.

"Tifa..."

"Don't, okay, Cloud, just don't." Her voice fought for neutral and failed "I get the message. I'm smothering you. I'm sorry, I'll back off."

"What?" It was his turn to be surprised.

"You just said you didn't want me around--"

"That is _not_ what I said."

She turned, eyes narrowed and accusing. "It most certainly is. 'I don't always want you to be there for me'... sound familiar?"

His mouth gave a rueful twist at the words. That was what he said—just not what he meant. Was it any wonder he disliked conversations?

"Will you let me finish?"

Her bottom lip looked ready to refuse, content in it's sullen pout. But when he placed a knuckle beneath her chin and tilted her face up, her eyes wavered and she sighed, "All right."

"This isn't easy for me. Talking, you know."

She did and for a moment was contrite. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He took the towel from her hand and motioned her to the sink where he turned on the tap. He rinsed her fingertips and watched the blood tinted water spin down the drain.

She waited, impatiently silent, for him to continue.

"I have been wading in self doubt for so long. Who am I? _What_ am I ? Do I deserve to be happy? Can I be happy? And I still can't answer those questions, because I don't know—not really."

Tifa placed her free hand on his chest, her usual response primed and ready. "Of course you deserve to be happy, Cloud."

He inclined his head, grazed her temple with his lips. "And of course you'd say that. It's your nature." He settled himself back against the counter, but this time pulled her with him. He spread his feet apart so that she could stand between his thighs. "The thing of it is that I _want_ to be happy. I want to be happy with you, because...it's _you_ and I'm me and there is no Cloud without Tifa. And I want there to be no one without the other, but I want-- no I _need_, to know I can do this on my own."

"On your own?" Each word was carefully spaced.

"I can't have you constantly being responsible for me. And I know that will be hard for you—to step back and let me fail a couple of times, but you've got to."

Watery eyes closed. "I can't watch you drown in depression again, Cloud." A wobble gave hint to the emotion she was holding in check. "I can't."

His fingertips brushed against her lashes. "I'm not asking you to. Just let me swim."

"Without me," she inhaled shakily.

"Not without you. Always with you." He corrected. "But beside you. I need you to come out from behind me, Teef. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded once. "I can try."

"That's all either of us can do." Her mouth was soft beneath his.


	2. Chapter 2

**"Daydream" 100 Word Drabble**

Her mouth was needy, open and wanton. Hands greedy, clutching hair. A sigh and a moan coupled on her breath, teasing his ear.

She smelled so good; tasted so sweet; felt like heaven.

Fingernails scraped skin and she arched deliciously beneath him, one leg hooked around hips. Pulling—seeking—demanding. She was both submissive and dominant, giving and taking everything he had to give her and more.

He pressed forward.

_Cloud!_

A horn blared and Fenrir swerved. He swallowed, pulling to stop. Best save the fantasies for home, he thought with a wicked smirk. But then, they wouldn't be fantasies.

**"Her eyes" 100 Word Drabble**

Her body quivered and writhed under his; fingernails clawing at what was left of his self-control. Her hands tangled in sheets; body arched, coated in sheens of moonlit silver.

He cupped her hips, lifted them.

He raised his head and his eyes met hers, held them as he filled her.

Chocolate bled over and breathing stopped.

He watched her eyes as he thrust deep. Watched them as he took her, and as she shifted her legs to take him.

Watched them fill with wonder and close on the peak of her pleasure, and watched as they swallowed him whole.


	3. Chapter 3

"Cloud's such a pain in the ass." It was Yuffie's favorite way to describe their comrade and neither Vincent nor Cid paid the comment any mind. But when she added, "And Tifa's an idiot." Barret snapped his head up and glowered.

"Whatdya mean by that?"

She rolled her eyes and waved one hand dramatically, as if the answer itself was hovering in their faces. "I meeeean the way she keeps waiting for Cloud."

The grooves beside Barret's mouth deepened. "Waiting for Cloud to what?"

"To tell her he loves her. I mean if he hasn't already...then duh, he isn't going to."

"Whaddya mean he hasn't told her?" Cid this time. He swung his arm off the back of his chair to lean across the table. "He tells her all the time."

She gaped. "Wait, what? You've heard him?"

"We all have." Cid gestured to Barret and Vincent, who both nodded in the vaguest sense of the word.

Yuffie blinked. "How come I've never heard him?"

Barret shifted in his seat. "Well, maybe if your head wasn't up your--"

"Hey!"

"You're just not listening right. Look. He's telling her right now," Cid pointed.

Yuffie swung around in her seat, eyes wide in expectation. Behind the bar Cloud approached Tifa, who was on her tip-toes reaching for a glass. He reached around her and snagged it down. Tifa smiled gratefully and went about pouring a drink as Cloud unloaded the box he'd brought in.

"There." Cid was smug.

"What?" Yuffie prodded with a pout. "He didn't say anything!"

"Fine. Look, he's telling her again."

Yuffie once more did a one-eighty.

Still back behind the bar, Cloud now stood holding curtains up as Tifa debated the placement of the rod.

"He's just standing there."

"Yup."

"Holding curtains."

"Yup."

Yuffie glanced at Vincent. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Red eyes glinted in the dull light. "No joke."

She gave a snort. "You guys are being jerks is all."

"Look, you little nit-wit," Cid snapped. "Love ain't about the words. It's about the actions. No self-respecting man is gonna hang curtains for a woman unless he's seriously gah-gah for the gal."

"That's stupid." Yuffie's lower lip stuck out in her trademark pout. "That's not an 'I love you', that's 'I don't want Tifa to bludgeon me.'"

"Barret, help me out," Cid sighed, exasperated.

The bigger man shrugged. "Ain't no help for her."

Cid rolled his eyes. "Vincent?"

"I refuse to try and quantify love for her."

Yuffie stuck her tongue out at him. He was unmoved.

A small shriek from across the room drew all eight eyes.

Tifa, perched on the counter, slipped sending curtains flying as she tumbled into Cloud's suddenly available arms.

Yuffie watched with interest as Cloud slowly—as in _extremely_ slowly—lowered Tifa back onto her feet. His arms, however, remained locked behind her back and his gaze was quizzical. Tifa flushed, embarrassed, and Cloud shrugged, but their gazes never wavered from one another. Then, as if remembering they had an audience, they darted looks towards the others, and parted.

Yuffie peered more intensely at Cloud as he turned away. Was that...a _smile?_ Holy, Leviathon! He loved her!


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** This was part of a writing challenge many months ago, and I found it while cleaning out my documents. The prompt was a conversation without any descriptions. Simply a conversation. There was more to the prompt, but this is my Cloud x Tifa portion.:) Enjoy!

* * *

Random Conversation

"What's wrong with your hair?"

"Nothing."

"Then why's it so...so _straight _and _flat_?"

"I just thought it was time for a change."

"But I love your hair when it's all spiky!"

"You do?"

"Yes. It's unique. Like you."

"You, uh, don't think it looks like the ass-end of a chocobo?"

"What? You're not still brooding over what that guy said to you earlier are you? I mean, you can't honestly think he's the first one to make the comparison—okay, maybe not the best time to bring that up...but you can't let stuff like that get to you. "

"Tifa."

"Besides, after the black eye he got I doubt he'll be running his mouth again anytime soon. And it's not like anyone took him seriously, he was falling all over himself."

"Teef."

"What, Cloud!"

"You're getting pretty worked up over this."

"And you're being obsessive again. I love your hair. I love your eyes. I love you. Just the way you are. Some drunken idiot makes one observation and that completely negates my opinion?"

"I never knew you _had _an opinion."

"Well, I do."

"I can see that."

"Wipe that smirk off your face and get up."

"What?"

"You heard me. You're taking a shower and washing whatever goop you used to cement your hair down out!"

"What if I like the new look?"

"All the more reason to move quickly, that stuff is making you demented."

"Tifa, you're going to rip my arm off."

"I may just beat you with it if I do—Cloud!"

"I can shower later..."

"_Oh!_"

"Yeah. 'Oh!'"


	5. Chapter 5

Cloud Reacts

Dusty floorboards gave weak, muted groans of protest beneath the heavy tread of his boots, but he paid them little mind. Shattered pillars and broken pews crumbled at the edge of his vision, but again he paid them no attention. He kept his gaze down, his stride straight, until he stood on the edge of green and gold and perfect, pristine white.

There, he stopped—still and silent—and glacier eyes stared at soft petals and blossoming green. They weren't supposed to be here, he thought. These flowers. Barren was the soil beneath them, tainted was the sky above; and yet here they bloomed.

Defiant against all the odds, granted life by the very essence of the planet.

The planet _he_ had _saved_.

His motives at the time may not have been the purest, but the fact remained that he had risked _everything_ and gotten _what_ exactly in return?

"I was ready." Soft and even, his voice sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness. "I was _ready_ to let it go. To live _my_ life, to take what was _mine_, to take back what was _stolen_." His bark of laughter was mirthless and cold. "But that's just not how it works for me, is it?"

The flowers kept their silence, but he knew the answer.

No. Not for him. Never for him.

_Savior_ of the fucking planet.

_Victim_ of the fucking planet.

They truly were lovely, he thought with his teeth clenched and his hands fisted into tight balls.

Flawless.

He'd never seen such perfection before.

Oh, he'd seen flowers before. Fields of them. But those _other_ flowers had insects or the occasional weak bloom.

But not these. Not these _special_ flowers.

Rage crept in. Dark and bruising, to match the poison stain on his skin.

Children were dying. _He_ was dying! And these fucking useless flowers thrived.

Spiteful, he stepped forward, directly onto a still blooming lily. The fragile stem broke, the petals crushed beneath the weight of him. Pale lips curved; satisfied. He stomped his heel, ground it down. Another miraculous flower crushed. And another, and another, until he was doing a mad dance with petals tearing off like wounds and he swore he could hear the dying plants shrieking in his ears.

Panting, he dropped to one knee, and struck the floor with his fist. With his chest laboring and black liquid slipping past his wrist he decided it then.

This would be the place where he'd rest; this would be the place where he'd rot. His dark silhouette would haunt this sanctuary of petals and the stench of his illness would taint the perfumed air.

He _refused_ to let his last memories be of Tifa's worried face. Refused to watch her eyes dull as the certainty of his death became unavoidable. He'd seen that enough, watching her watch Denzel. He'd seen the quiet defeat. He'd held hands that shook when fevers spiked.

No.

He'd stay in the church.

He'd wither and die amongst the eternal flowers.

His body would become the planet's, but that was all.

His memories were his finally, and he'd be damned if he gave them up in favor of making new, ugly ones.

He'd take with him warmth, and love, and soft smiles, gentle kisses and a laugh that tightened his gut.

If he was going to die, he was taking that with him. The fucking planet owed him that much, at least.

* * *

AN: This is for Bofoddity who makes my life so much more interesting and enjoyable! And because, like me, she doesn't see Cloud as a weakling and found his lack of reaction to Geostigma unbelievable. Thanks so much, Bof! For everything!


	6. Chapter 6

So What

So what if the hair was the wrong shade as it speared through clenched fingers; it was still soft to touch. And so what if the eyes were the wrong color; too light, too bright, too dim...too something...not enough...they still glazed with passion and closed in ecstasy. And so what if the voice was a different tone than it should be when it gave ragged moans and soft sighs of pleasure; it was still nice to hear. And so what if the name that passed wrong shaped lips wasn't the right one; at least it was someone's.

* * *

AN: Kind of my own personl look at Clerith. I know that most of these drabbles are Cloud x Tifa related, but this one hit me this morning as I was drinking my coffee, and I got to thinking that it would be the wrong person for both Cloud x Aerith, no? IMO anyway. :)


	7. Chapter 7

If She Was Honest

If she was honest, it wasn't hard for her to see how her and Cloud's relationship could be confusing, frustrating and altogether misunderstood by the others in their lives.

After all, it wasn't as though they'd had the easiest or most normal of relationships. From the beginning things were thrown askew by lack of memories, too many memories and a certain flower girl. Although, if she was honest, Tifa couldn't really blame Aerith for her role in the misunderstandings. It was easy to see why (and assume that he had) loved her. And he had.

Just as Tifa did.

It was a love that defied, endured and went beyond death, so, yeah, she understood that was hard to comprehend much less quantify.

However, she'd heard Yuffie ask her enough times, "what are you waiting for" to realize that some things about them were totally misunderstood.

Did they really think she was waiting for Cloud?

Through awkward adolescence and far off longing, to battle weary friends with invisible walls between them, they had their share of painful obstacles, and she'd endured them all to be at his side, this much was true, but she wasn't waiting for him.

She never had been; and, if she was honest, she could admit that had been part of their problem. Too many open wounds and bitter memories kept her from staying stagnant or waiting. She was an activist and refused to play on the sidelines of life, for anything...or anyone.

So no, she wasn't waiting for Cloud.

There was no point to it, really.

And as she climbed into her warm bed to be immediately banded by a strong arm around her waist and soft breath against her neck as a sleep husky voice whispered, "You're late," she smiled.

"I know." She nestled in. "Thanks for waiting."

No, she wasn't waiting for Cloud.

But that didn't mean he wasn't waiting for _her_.

She wasn't sure her friends would ever really understand that.

And if she was honest, she didn't much care if they did.


	8. Chapter 8

Cloud in Church

Pt. 2 of Cloud Reacts

The glow of the lantern was minimal, and the flame flickered weakly in the damp breeze wafting in through shattered beams and falling mortar. It was barely enough light to see the straps on his boots, but it was enough. After all, what was there to see? Broken walls and shattered pews. Abandoned Prayers and untended flowers?

He supposed, if Tifa knew where he was, she'd assume he was there for Aerith. The truth was, he was there because the church was a reflection of himself. Broken and hollow, with willing spirit but trapped in the rubble of his past...

And now this.

He glared down at his aching arm, the opposite hand rubbing the stiffness away through his dark cloak.

With a sigh, he shifted position, pulled out his cell phone. The digital display was glaringly bright in the darkness He pressed and held the 1, waited for his voice-mail. "You have no new messages." He sighed, rubbed his nose. Then, because he liked to torture himself, he waited. "And four saved messages. Saved message: _Cloud. Are you there? Are you well? You have a delivery in Kalm. Branscomb's Grocery. You know the one. Take care. _Saved message: _Marlene and Denzel made you a picture. I...I'll leave it on the porch. You can swing by and pick it up...if you can._"

His gaze strayed to the rolled up construction paper crayon drawing beside his duffel.

"Saved Message: _I hope you're doing all right. Are you eating? I just called to check on you. I guess you're fine. Take care of yourself. I worry. _Saved Message: _Cloud, you have another delivery. I texted you the instructions."_

He closed his eyes, dropped his head back. _Tifa..._ His fingers tightened on the phone and he had to literally talk himself out of pressing the speed dial for Seventh Heaven. She didn't need one more burden on those already weighed shoulders.

He couldn't give her much, but he could give her that.

He stared at the flowers he was beginning to hate, and let his mind drift into chocolate crimson and warm laughter. He'd take with him those...and leave nothing.

Selfish, yes.

But as he traced his index finger over his phone, and replayed the messages, he couldn't bring himself to change it.


	9. Chapter 9

Cloud Loses

* * *

I take in the lobby at a glance; dim lights, low voiced patrons, tourists and travelers and the remaining members of my group seated in the shadowed corner beneath the stairs. There's a brief flare of orange as Cid takes another long drag from his cigarette. Beside him, one arm draped across his chest, is Yuffie; her bob of dark hair shielding her pale face as she weeps brokenly into Cid's shoulder. I look away; partially to respect her moment of grief, and partially because I'm angry at the fact that she _gets_ to grieve.

Across from Cid and Yuffie, Aerith sits with her head bowed and hands folded in her lap. This makes me insane, and I barely prevent myself from exploding. How _dare _she? What the fuck has the Planet ever done that it deserves her silent worship. I want to yank her to her feet, shake her and demand that she stop.

Instead I turn and approach the bar area. There, at a round table, with his back to the wall, sits the reason I'm still here.

"Barret."

He jerks his head up but I know he isn't surprised to see me; he's more annoyed than anything.

"Cloud." He takes another long pull from the bottle in front of him. He has several others, mostly empty, lined up like a fortress wall in front of him.

"Looks like you've had enough," I say.

"Ya ain't my keeper. I don' need a babysitter."

I grab a chair from the table beside us, swing it around on one leg so that I'm straddling it with my arms resting over the narrow back. I fix him with my coldest stare before saying, "We both know why I'm here."

He looks at me and I know he can hear her in his head just as clearly as I hear her in mine.

A flicker of pain and anguish cross his weathered features, so acute that for a moment I have to look away, because I know his face is a reflection of my own.

For a time neither of us says anything. He reaches across the table and grabs for the unopened whiskey. He twists the cap, drinks straight from the bottle.

"That helping?" I snarl.

He gives me a humorless laugh."Can't tell. Can't feel. Don't wanna feel." A long pause, his voice taking on a rough cadence. "Fuck."

"Yeah," I echo. "Fuck." I yank the bottle from his hands. "She wouldn't want this for you."

He leans over the table, tries to yank the bottle back. I glare at him. He flings himself back into his seat. "What the fuck? Just 'cuz you can't escape into an alcoholic haze don't mean ya have to spoil it for me too! She ain't here to see. She's gone. Fuckin' _gone_! " He emphasizes the last word as if I'd somehow forgotten that small detail.

Rage and anger squeeze me like a vise and I have the nearly uncontrollable urge to slam my fist into his face. I don't, because from the look he's giving me part of him wants me to hit him, and I'm not in the mood to do him any favors.

So instead, I take a long drink from the bottle in my hands, slamming it back on the table, empty. I don't even feel a dulling to the pain in my chest.

Barret looks at me and after a second, he says, "Mako sucks, huh?"

I don't say anything.

He leans back against his chair, rocking it on its hind legs so that they creak. "You gonna stay?" he asks. Twice now, Barret has asked me my intentions regarding AVALANCHE, and twice now I've avoided an answer.

Up until this point I hadn't given much thought to whether or not I would be staying. I'd just been focused on finishing the fight. On the end. On revenge.

Now, I considered everything and even with her gone I couldn't bring myself to leave. These were the people she'd died for. They were her family...

"Yeah," I answer, "I'll be staying." What's a little salt in the wounds?

He nods, as if he approves of my decision. Not that I need his fucking approval. Part of me still blames him for her being gone. If he'd never taken her in, never made her part of his fight, then maybe none of this would've happened.

Of course the blame isn't his. It's more mine than anyones, and that just makes it all the harder for me to keep going. But I will. Not because I'm heroic, like the newspapers are calling me, but because I promised her, and I won't let her down.

I stand up, ready to leave. He follows, adjusting the settings on his prosthetic arm.

In the lobby I secure our rooms for the night and motion for the others to take their keys.

We don't speak. There are no words.

It's raining now, and in the distance I can hear the thunder rolling in. It's been a long time since I've listened to the rain. I stare at the ceiling with the unwavering intensity I'm known for, trying to keep my mind carefully blank. Trying to block out the pain, but in the end, it's no use. And as I listen, I remember.

Images of her materialize in my mind's eye, so vivid and clear that I momentarily curse my newfound ability to remember everything: _She's sitting on top of the well, toes wiggling over the side; Her eyes glint red in the bright of the sun as strands of dark hair float around her perfect features; She's leaning against my sword with an impish smile playing with her mouth. _

Then, the images I've tried desperately to keep from my mind boil up: _We're fighting at the City Of Ancients, all of us, for the Planet, for ourselves, for a cause. Me? I'm fighting for her. _

_We're fighting horrible odds against an enemy that is beyond our comprehension and that will stop at nothing to achieve its goal. And in the end, it won't be enough. I know this. She knows this. We all do. But we fight on, because we're the Planet's last hope and that's what she does. She fights. _

I roll over, trying to shake the memories from my mind, but they continue and I hear her voice, a voice that is both beautiful and terrifying as it reaches me. In my memories she is calling for the White Materia...

_Aerith's Materia._

_Sephiroth hears and he screeches. Screeches! Like some demented demon monster, and even my blood runs cold at the sound. He takes to the air; to flee I think. We've got it him on the run._

I think this because at first I don't understand what's really happening. But soon enough I will.

_Aerith is ahead of me on the uptake and I hear her screaming for it all to, "Stop! Please stop! No! There has to be another way! Stop!" She panicked. Terrified._

_Above us, Sephiroth floats, his silver hair haloing his head as he smiles. And as he smiles, tentacles erupt from his body and another form starts to take shape. This is the end. Sephiroth—Jenova. They've won. We all feel it. We could barely fight him, much less _them_. _

_  
I look toward the one person I want to be my last vision. It's her face I want etched on my brain. She looks back at me, at all of us, through the chaos. She looks at her family with her strange ruby flecked eyes and I feel their warm hue once more. "I love you," she says. _

_She looks directly at me then and I see all the love we could have shared in her eyes and my heart stops and I'm left standing stupid as she leaps over to me and kisses me hard with every ounce of passion and love she possesses. She's gone again before my arms can close around her. "Watch after, Barret," she says._

I roll onto my back, hands over my eyes, trying in vain not to see what I know comes next.

_She's not looking at me anymore, she's looking at Aerith, and Aerith is shaking her head: no,no,no. I'm beginning to see now, and I'm terrified. I start to chase her, but she's so fast._

_The Jenova thing was growing larger and I swear I can still hear the cackling voices of Jenova and Sephiroth in my head, calling me a puppet. _

_  
"Give me the damn Materia!" Her voice is hard and demanding, and in that moment I think I hated her a little bit for being who she was. For being a fighter. She yanked the materia from Aerith's hair. She curls her fingers around it, forming a tight fist. She draws back, focusing all of her energy—all of _herself _into her hand. _

_Her final Heaven. _

_And with a yell she dives into the air, straight at Jenova, and drives her fist right through._

_It's over in a blink, like a star collapsing---you'd think it'd take longer for the world to end, you know. But it's quick and so painful. There's a flash of bright light and then she's on the ground, and a confused Sephiroth is standing over her. _

_I howled with loss. _

_I was told later that I went crazy—attacking Sephiroth like a madman—slashing and slashing._

I don't really remember.

I don't really care.

The pain in my chest is relentless, unending. I take a ragged breath and close my eyes. Like this, eyes closed, with the memories of her all around me, I can almost feel her here. Almost.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, look down at the floor. Slowly, I rise, and with deliberate steps I walk to the double doors leading to the balcony. I throw them open, facing the storm. The rain and wind pelt my bare flesh but the sting means little.

On that same wind I hear the muffled sound of broken sobs, and I know Yuffie and Aerith are on the other side of my wall, in the adjacent room, grieving. I envy them that, because I can't cry. Shit, I can't even say her name, the pain is so intense.

She's all around me. In the wind-on the rain-in my head. Everywhere and nowhere. I am empty inside, hollow and broken and I hurt. I hurt so much I can't stand it.

I drop to my knees and finally—finally her name is torn from my throat in a scream of rage and anguish and endless love.

_"Tifa!"_

_

* * *

AN: Everyone does one of these "What If" stories. Here's my little snippet version of it. Takes place at the Forgotten City when Aerith "should" have died. _


	10. Chapter 10

Handyman

She edged farther up the ladder, her toned arms stretched overhead, pulling the hem of her shirt up so that if he tilted his head ever so slightly he could see the indent of her navel and the soft curves of her abdomen.

Fine, soft hairs caught in the sunlight and he found himself wondering if it would tickle should he give into the temptation and blow on them.

She gave a soft grunt, drawing his eyes away from her skin. She shifted and the smoothness of her calf rubbed his cheek.

"Oops. Sorry, Cloud." She glanced down at him, flashed a quick smile. "I'm almost done." She twisted the light bulb between her long fingers.

The palms of his own hands itched fiercely.

She wobbled a bit as she started back down the rungs. "I never really thought about how high these ceilings were when I bought the place," she told him, her curvaceous backside coming closer and closer. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem." He stepped back from the ladder, wiped his hands on his pants. "Anything else need fixing?"

"Actually, yeah." She told him over her shoulder. "The pipes under the bar sink keep leaking. No matter how much I've tried I can't get it to stop." She opened the cupboard and squatted down. "See?"

Cloud bit his cheek and nodded. It was going to be a long afternoon, he thought, casually adjusting his pants. But as she hefted the wrench toward him and smiled up at him with eyes shining and her dimple showing, he decided a little discomfort was a small price to pay for being her handyman.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: I wrote this originally for SpringKink, but modified it after for Cloti :)

* * *

She decided against opening the bar.

It wasn't as though Tuesdays were exceptionally busy anyway, she thought, as she gave the straw in her drink another listless twirl. She could have handled it by herself. She'd done it countless times before.

Which was probably why she hadn't done it tonight.

She didn't want to do it by herself.

She didn't want to be in a room full of familiar strangers—all of whom knew her name, but little else—and make pretend that everything was all right...that _she_ was all right.

Not tonight.

Not on _this_ night.

Instead, she had spent her afternoon and evening completing every household task she could think of.

The walls were washed, the trash removed, the dishes done, clothing sewn and repaired—mostly Cloud's—and all of the rooms scrubbed and scoured to a spotless shine. She organized the liquor, replenished the stock, finished the grocery shopping and painted the spare room.

She was duly tired, her body sore and her eyelids heavy, but despite that, she couldn't find it in herself to just sit and simply _be._ Instead, she found herself behind the bar, a near empty drink in hand, waiting for a phone call that wasn't coming.

It shouldn't surprise her that he didn't remember, after all he hadn't mentioned it once in all these years. It wasn't Nibleheim, or Sephiroth, or Aerith. This pain was hers and hers alone.

This day was hers to remember.

Fifteen years. Had it really been so long since she'd seen her mother's face?

She closed her eyes, tried to recall warm brown eyes and an easy smile, but found the image faded, blurry and distorted by time.

She had no pictures to refresh her memory, all of those were lost, burnt to the ground with the rest of her childhood.

Her fingers brushed against the earring dangling from her left ear absently. What she needed now was a hot bath and sleep. Standing around recounting all the things she'd lost, couldn't remember, and would never have again wouldn't change anything. And if Tifa had learned anything over the years it was that holding onto the dead did nothing but keep a person stagnant.

She wasn't Cloud. She didn't dwell on all the lives they'd lost. She could move on.

She could.

She had.

Hadn't she?

So what if there were nights she lay beside Marlene, stroking the soft fall of hair across a youthful forehead and wished she could remember her mother's touch...

So what if there were days she'd hear a tinkling laugh and think of pastel pinks and ribbons...

So what if she'd given her all to everyone else to the point she had nothing left for herself...

It was all worth it, right?

The hollow, empty ache....it was worth it...._right?_

The room refused to answer her silent questions.

Disgusted by her own self pity, Tifa stalked from the bar with a slam of the door. So focused on her own thoughts she missed the swirl of petals around her ankles as she marched up the stairs to the second floor.

Ink-like shadows stretched across the hallway walls, danced in the light of the moon that filtered beneath doors and through slats on the windows. Hers trailed behind in a disjointed walk, stilted and broken, its steps mirroring her mood.

Out of habit she stopped before Denzel's room. She didn't open the door; she didn't have to. She knew the bed—neatly made with freshly washed sheets—was empty. Both kids were staying with Elmyra for the week, but her hand lifted, palm to wood, and she whispered goodnight regardless. She did the same at Marlene's room.

Her fingertips traced fleetingly against the brass of Cloud's door knob. She didn't stop here, though. The flare of hurt she felt at his absence lingered and ache mixed with frustrated anger and stunted her breath. She was always, _always_ there for him...but when _she_ needed someone...

She pushed a hand through her hair and shook her head and continued down the hall.

* * *

The bath was hot—so hot that her skin was pink and tingling within seconds. Steam rose like dancing ribbons from the water, drifted over white tile and smeared itself wantonly against mirrored glass.

Tifa gave a long sigh as she eased back. She closed her eyes, tilted her head and let the water erase the hard stiffness from her shoulders. But she had to admit—reluctantly—that it was doing nothing to dissolve the loneliness in her heart.

Despite her inner pep talks as the bath had filled, she couldn't shake the sadness. It clung to her, wrapped it's drab gray arms around her and pressed down. Down...down....

The water closed over her head and the sound of her own heart drummed in her ears. She lay flat, eyes closed and wondered how long she could hide beneath the surface, immersed in the warmth, and pretend that she was surrounded by loving arms, held and wanted as opposed to shackled by loneliness.

She missed her mother. She missed her father.

Jessie, Biggs, Wedge.

So many friends gone. Lost to evil, lost to a cause, lost to senseless violence.

Cloud.

He was still with her—physically at least—but some days...days like today, she wished he'd see past her facade, peer beneath the surface and find her there. The _real_ her.

Had anyone ever really seen her? Behind the forced optimism to the secluded longing beneath?

She felt it then—a surge of sadness so acute that it seemed to ripple across the water and _through_ her.

Her eyes popped opened and she sat up abruptly with her hands clutched against the scar on her chest, sloshing water over the side of the tub. A glance around the bathroom revealed her to be alone, but she didn't want to be. As foolish as it was, she called out, "Hello?"

No response.

Not that there should have been one.

She was alone.

She was so alone... Always alone.

A touch, featherlight and fleeting, perhaps a breeze from the hall, swept over her skin, leaving a trail of goose flesh in its wake. She thought she heard the front door, but after a moment of listening, she decided it was in her head.

She rubbed her hands down her face and expelled a shaky breath. She was tired. Too tired, and too emotionally raw, and she may very well have slipped over the edge into crazy-town.

The room, thick with steam and the scent of flowers, blurred and tilted dangerously askew. The drink she'd had was finally kicking in. She eased back, her head resting against the tub and she closed her eyes and let the warm water lull her...

She wasn't sure she could move.

Chilly and wet she blinked open too-heavy eyelids.

Her fingertips were prune-like and the water in the tub had long gone cold. Tifa struggled to her feet on wobbly legs, gripped the towel from the bar and twisted it around her middle. How long had she been in there?

She must have fallen asleep.

She stepped from the tub, pulled the plug and listened to the gurgle of water flowing down the drain as she brushed out her long hair. The mirror above the sink reflected a pale face and eyes that were tinged red.

She glanced quickly away from her reflection and turned off the light and stepped out into the hall.

There she stopped, frozen.

Flowers.

Everywhere.

Petals of white and pink and yellow littered the hardwood.

She took a hesitant step, then another, scattering the blossoms as she followed the trail to her bedroom door. She found flowers in there as well, though not scattered petals. They lay on the corner of her bed, a small bundle with a pink ribbon around the stems.

"You didn't think I forgot about you, did you, Tifa?"

Her breath caught, hitched and fell from parted lips, "Cloud." He was behind her when she turned, his eyes so blue, so serious.

"I..." she shook her head, not sure what to say. Because she _had_ thought he'd forgotten about her.

"It took me awhile to figure it out," he admitted, running his hand across the back of his neck. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Once more, she shook her head. "I don't know."

At this, his hand left his nape and moved to caress the side of her face. "I think I do. But, you're not alone, and you don't have to face this alone. I'm here." He wrapped his arms around her.

Warmth and solace flowed through her, surrounded her, swelled and ebbed into a peaceful tranquility. It was as though her very soul was being embraced.

She pressed against his chest and let him take her weight. "Thank you."


	12. Chapter 12

Curled and frayed at the edges, its colors have long since bled into muted versions of their past boldness. He carries it with him, regardless, and won't part with it even when his wife tells him she can have it digitally restored.

"No thanks," he always says and tucks the picture back into his breast pocket.

She smiles a soft smile of understanding--one that reminds him of the woman in the photograph and hands him his keys. She's come to know what it means when he stares too long at faded memories, and he's long overdue for a visit.

He makes one call, and it's short. "Hey, Marlene. I'm going for a ride."

She meets him at the end of her drive, looking like a memory with flowers in her hand and a ribbon in her hair, but it's a happy memory and he's glad to see her.

On a grassy hill overlooking New Midgar she places flowers against rusted steel and says, "Hello."

It was here, his father once told them, that a hero died, and it was here they should come to remember.

He takes his sister's hand and together they do just that.


	13. Chapter 13

Coma

* * *

_Voices._

Faint.

Hushed.

Murmurs speaking in confidential tones.

The sterile smell of antiseptic.

Something in his arm: a needle.

Tubes; invading is body; his nose; his throat.

Flashes of fragmented memories filtered through the splintered wreck of his mind.

Phosphorous tanks. Men in masks. Pain, endless pain. Blood. _Screams._

He tried to move; couldn't. He tried to open his eyes, but even that small feat proved to be alarmingly futile. His head felt too heavy. He was trapped within his own body, wanting to scream against his helplessness. _Where was he? Who had him?_ His heart rate accelerated, causing a machine somewhere in the room to blip incessantly.

Immediately' something cool and soft touched his forehead, smoothing his hair back. "Shh. You're safe. I'm here."

The fleeting touch and the soothing whisper had him instantly calming, the hazy darkness in his mind's eye replaced by warmth, and light cocooning him. Keeping him safe.

The gentle voice whispered once more, "It's okay. I'm here."

He relaxed. Slept.

* * *

The voices were back again.

One; deep and solid, like a bass drum, the other; soft and smooth.

Familiar. Comforting. Safe.

He tried to turn his head towards that sound. The one that eased the pain and chased away the demons, but found, as before, that he was unable to do so. Something was holding his head in place.

Padding of some sort.

Smelled of vinyl.

There was a silence between the room's other occupants and some motion. They were milling carefully around him.

He followed the sounds as best he could, still unable to come fully awake.

Buttons being pushed.

The scratch of pen on paper.

Soft breathing.

A door opened, then closed.

In his foggy state he was incapable of making his thoughts connect coherently; everything was floating and random.

"You should go without me," the soft voice said; the one that managed to capture his scattered attention.

Bass-Drum replied with, "He'll be safe here. The doctors will—"

"I'm not leaving him."

Fingertips brushed his cheek, there and gone almost in the same instant, bringing with them the feeling of peace. He wanted to reach up and take hold, but before he could even try she was moving away, her voice becoming more and more muffled as sleep overcame him.

But before the blackness swamped him again, he remembered. Hope and life and love and... _Tifa..._


	14. Chapter 14

Canoodle

The newspaper hit the table with a violent thwap and a blond eyebrow arched at the muttered curse that followed.

"Problem?" he asked, careful to keep his voice level.

Dark eyes glittered warning. "Don't tell me you haven't seen it," she said with a huff.

He finished off his orange juice, set the glass aside and shrugged. "Sure, I saw it."

"And?" she prompted when he didn't offer anything more.

"And what?" Again his voice was calm, without inflection, but he could feel the smirk at the corner of his lips.

Apparently, Tifa could see it too, because her eyes snapped crimson sparks in a sea of dark chocolate. "This isn't funny, Cloud," she stated.

That, he thought as he stood and cleared his plate, was a matter of opinion. "It's not that bad," he said.

"Not that bad?" Her voice rose an octave and she snapped open the newspaper. "'Legendary Planet Hero Tifa Lockhart, former member of AVALANCHE, is no stranger to scandal but in recent weeks a number of pictures have surfaced revealing her with former Wall Market slum lord Don Corneo, prompting fervor, outrage and interest among Edge locals. When asked if she had been a one time consort of the nefarious Don, Ms. Lockhart had no comment, but a source close to the ex-extremist confirms the images as authentic.'" She lowered the paper, peered at him over the headline. "Not that bad, huh?"

"You've weathered worse," Cloud replied, removing the article from her hands and tossing it aside. He circled his arms around her waist and feathered her temple with a light kiss.

"I suppose you're right," she smiled, leaning into him. "I mean it could be worse. They could have the pictures of _you _conoodling with Don Corneo."

He stiffened; indignant. "I did not _canoodle_."

"Aw, c'mere you healthy lookin' girl," she teased him, doing a fairly accurate impersonation of the sleaze-ball Don as she nibbled his ear.

"Not funny." But even he was smiling as she led him from the kitchen.


	15. Chapter 15

AN: My friend Alialka did a 50 Sentence Cloti prompt (you should definitely check hers out) and I decided that I wanted to give it a try (with a slightly more citrus taste). It looked fun! And it was. Thanks to Alialka for the inspiration!

* * *

50 Sentences Challenge

**01 Silence**: She arched and broke for him, her mouth open on a silent cry as she let her body say what words could not.

**02 Talent**: She was drowning, drenched in heat and _him, _and managed only one fleeting thought before pleasure crested and left her mute: For a man that didn't talk much, he sure knew how to use his tongue.

**03 Search**: Fingers flexed, clenched, and pulled, and his name was a broken sob over rich velvet as his wandering lips found the spot he'd been looking for.

**04 Ice**: He'd never been a fan of cold; had hated the icy confinement of his Mako tube, but now, as the last vestiges of the cube trickled across his thigh chased by chilled lips, Cloud thought that maybe the cold wasn't so bad.

**05 Journey**: Fingertips walked through a scarred valley and over silken slopes, slid along exposed dips and wandered past cotton barriers to seek shelter in slick heat.

**06 Hurricane**: The bedpost snapped like dry tinder, splintered wood raining over them as he flipped her onto her back, driving into her with unforgiving force and riding out the storm she'd awoken.

**07 Highway**: There was something about the rumble of steel and smell of hot leather that made her feel uninhibited and she chuckled softly when Fenrir swerved and her hand found ready hardness beneath his zipper.

**08 Unknown**: Breath—stuttered and broken—hissed between clenched teeth and his back arched clear off the bed at the first lick of her tongue against rigid flesh and Cloud desperately wanted to tear the blindfold off so that he could _see_.

**09 View**: Her calf muscles tightened, nearly cramping and the toe of her sneaker squeaked against the hardwood, but still she shifted, stretching just a little more over the bar in hopes to catch a peek of Cloud's torn pants as he strolled by.

**10 Dream**: She tasted of chocolate and a kiss of strawberries, felt like silk over steel, sounded sweeter than any music he'd ever heard, and was so much _more_ than every fantasy his teenage self had ever imagined.

**11 Body_: _**He knew there were men out there that only saw her for one thing, and he pitied them, because she was so much more than perfect curves and smoldering eyes; she was everything.

**12 Breathe**: The edges of his vision were blurred, black encroaching and lungs burning until, softly, gently, she removed her lips from his and reminded him to breathe.

**13 Lock**: He growled in satisfaction when her legs hitched, curled higher, drew him deeper and her ankles locked together behind his neck and she demanded _more. _

**14 Eclipse**: It was shy and timid in a way he hadn't seen since they were kids, and he pushed aside the hair that suddenly veiled her pink face and he waited for her answer with sweaty palms and pounding heart.

**15 Cold**: It was funny, she thought, watching the snow fall and the kids throw snowballs at Cloud, how their home never felt cold anymore no matter what the weather.

**16 Overwhelmed**: It wasn't Sephiroth or remnants or Jenova that did it; no, it was light kisses dropped onto his head in frequent passings and messy scrawl with crayon pictures that broke Cloud Strife.

**17 World**: Breaths staggered and sweat slicked limbs tangled around one another until neither could say where each ended or began, and both were content with the world.

**18 Lies**: He had hid himself behind a facade for so long he was starting to wonder at his sanity, but when she looked at him, eyes red and deep, he suddenly knew where the truth was.

**19 Wings**: He'd seen one sprout from the back of a madman hellbent on destruction, but now he felt like he had them as her "Yes!" echoed across the bar and she was in his arms laughing and crying amidst the applause.

**20 Red:** Cloud narrowed his blue eyes and frantically searched his brain for a proper retort, but a flick of flame tail and a knowing glint in a yellow eye stalled him and Red's smugness was only made bearable by the subject in which he was right.

**21 Fever**: She was burning up, certain to set the mattress on fire, but she didn't care—_couldn't_ care—with his mouth on her breast and his hair in her fist.

**22 Silk**: One dark eyebrow arched and lips twitched as he hastily shook his head and mumbled something about Wutai and stupid ideas and he pocketed the silk ribbons while she made mental note to take them out later.

**23 Fall**: It had started at eight years old and had never ended, she thought with a smile.

**24 Sacred**: The words, soft spoken, low and serious, were etched in her mind and on her heart and more permanent than the ring he slid past her knuckle.

**25 Mask**: He shuddered beneath her, open and vulnerable, as his hands grasped rolling hips and fingertips dug deep in desperation, and this was how she loved him best.

**26 Wait**: _Not yet, not yet_, the mantra throbbed in his head as he held himself shaking above her—_in _her—and watched as she came, shuddering, quaking and crying, before he allowed himself to follow.

**27 Talk**: "I've been told that there isn't a man around that can wield a sword quite like yours can," the patron said, lifting his cup; to which Tifa could only think: _You have no idea_ and refilled his glass.

**28 Ring**: Sated; she let her hand wander back up to rest on her bare stomach and whispered goodnight into the phone, smirking at how readily he answered his now.

**29 Box**: She wouldn't ever forget the way his eyes lit up and his mouth opened slightly in wonder at the small gift she handed him, and it made all the hours of searching for just the right one worth it.

**30 Run**: Sweaty and dirty, she opened for him and didn't complain at the gravel in her back nor he the pebbles in his hands and both decided to share their morning jog more often.

**31 Hero**: He'd never believe the words, so she told him with the slick heat of her mouth and the firm stroke of her hand how she appreciated all he did.

**32 Gravity**: He could leap the expanse of the ShinRa Tower if he chose, but he couldn't escape the pull of those dark eyes or soft fingertips against his forearm when she whispered, "Stay."

**33 Candle**: Hot wax on skin caused a hiss of breath between swollen lips and he apologized for his clumsiness, but she simply smiled and rolled him beneath her and it was he who burned then.

**34 Forgotten**: It was on his ride back to Edge that he spotted them, a flash of white in a field of yellow, and his smile was smug as he pulled Fenrir to the side and pocketed Tifa's forgotten panties.

**35 Whisper**: It was a quiet scrape against his earlobe and he clutched her closer, drove up and deep, turning whisper to moan.

**36 Drink**: "Give me something hard," she murmured against his throat, causing him to choke on his whiskey.

**37 Midnight**: The color of her hair always fascinated him, dark and rich, it wrapped around him and veiled him in midnight.

**38 Temptation**: It was the sultry way her lashes lowered and lips pouted that had his chair kicked aside and her pressed to the wall with needy hands shoving leather up and cotton down while his thick erection rubbed against moist heat just _so_.

**39 Cover**: Fingers meshed together as mouths fused and tongues dueled and when he lay her down and covered her body with his, all she could think was: _Finally!_

**40** **Strength**: It was effortless to hold her like this, against the shower tiles with her legs around his hips and her hands in his hair as she arched and bounced and told him to go _faster-harder-deeper_, but it took all of his strength and then some to let her go after.

**41 Promise**: "Don't stop. Gods, please, don't stop," she begged and his tongue laved the oath.

**42 Music**: Piano keys played disjointed notes as nimble fingers were replaced by heel and backside and hurried thrusting.

**43 Memory**: Every hollow, every curve, every freckle was etched forever in his mind seared there by fingertip caresses.

**44 Formal**: He hated ties and suits, preferred familiar leather and knit, but he'd wear one every day if it always resulted in a long dress pulled tight around strong thighs and pressed lapels crushed in tight fists.

**45 Dance**: He told her he couldn't dance and she'd told him it was just like making love, so he'd told her he wanted to learn and she slipped off her gown.

**46 Laugh**: The floor was cold and hard beneath his shoulders but the laughter teasing his sweat damp neck was warm and familiar and suddenly he didn't mind the tumble from the bed.

**47 Hope**: She tugged his arm around her waist, splayed her fingers between his and slowly pressed their warmth to her abdomen and smiled _her _smile.

**48 Farewells**: He was going to be late, he thought, swinging onto Fenrir, but the slight sting on his back and the tingle of his mouth prevented him from giving a damn.

**49 Fire**: Heat and flames and writhing screams were something she'd always feared in the darkness of her dreams, but with Cloud it was different and the hiss of heat and screams were wrought of pleasure, not pain.

**50 Forever**: Salty kisses and soft murmurs were exchanged languidly between them as the sun set on the Costa De Sol horizon, and when the stars peeked down, it was on lovers asleep--twined and content--bands on their fingers promising eternity.


	16. Chapter 16

"Home"

It was strange to hear the shower running at this time of night. Strange...and yet achingly familiar, Tifa thought as she bent to pick up Cloud's discarded sweater-vest. The kids were asleep in their room, worn out from the day's events and if she tried, she could almost imagine that Cloud had just come home late from deliveries, and that nothing had really changed.

_Almost._

The sight of scattered clothes—tossed carelessly onto the bedside chair, and onto the floor—caused her lips to arch up at the corners. Because then again, some things never changed. Cloud wasn't exactly the neat and orderly type. If she hadn't taken to picking up after him they'd have been buried in receipts, clothes and lug-nuts long ago.

Impulsively, she nestled her nose into the fabric and inhaled his lingering scent. Opening her eyes, she let out her breath, and folded the shirt over her arm. She picked his trousers up next, and, still half listening to the soft hum of the water through the walls, brushed the woven cotton lightly with her fingers and mentally cataloged the places she'd have to mend. The material, warm and familiar in her hands, was somehow heavier than she remembered.

Better to stay in the moment, she reminded herself and shook off the encroaching doubts in her mind. She was always good at that; focusing on the now and what was needed of her. So, with an edge of purpose, she placed the clothes onto the chair in a neat pile before she adjusted her long tee-shirt and crouched to straighten the sturdy leather boots beneath.

The boots were well worn, scarred and stained, but they stood up well against the test of time. And in that way, they reminded her of Cloud. Absently, she turned one boot up in her hand, traced the rubber tread with her fingertips and was surprised when she felt a wide gap in material. _Odd._ She angled her head for a better look and studied the hole she found with troubled eyes. Questions of how, when, and what were immediately replaced with a certainty she'd rather not have felt.

_Sephiroth_.

And the hole in the boot captured her thumb.

And the shadows of the room pressed on her.

* * *

The air was cool against his damp skin when he stepped from the bathroom. Not many things felt as good as this, he thought, one hand rubbing a small towel through the unruly spikes on his head. Although he'd emerged from his dip in the never-after and Water at the Church cleansed and healed, there was something fundamentally soothing about having a hot shower.

Quiet, he made his way to the bedroom, his bare feet silent on the hardwood. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, and he couldn't suppress the flare of relief he felt at that. He'd half expected to find it closed, and had he, he would have deserved it.

But he should have known better. She'd never close him out. Had never closed him out. He was the king of self-imposed isolation and she the tether that brought him home.

_Home._

He could call it that now, he _would _call it that now.

With that thought in mind, he slipped into the room and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

And stopped there, surprised to see her still up and standing silent with a darkened expression above stiff shoulders, her hands working over the leather of his boot. He watched, curious, as her nimble fingers traced the smooth outline of the gaping hole that speared his boot.

He didn't need his enhanced senses to feel the dark that crept upon her, and his own hands flexed on the terrycloth. "Tifa." Her name was a hoarse scratch on a raw throat and he wasn't sure she heard, but then her head came up and those dark, dark eyes shone with barely checked emotion.

"Through your foot," she murmured with a shake of her head. "He stabbed you through the foot. I mean what kind of...that's just... _who does that_?" And Cloud was taken aback.

He'd had much worse injuries. Survived much worse. She'd tended to much worse.

But here she was, in the dark of their room, shadows on more than her face, confronting him with his boot.

Solemn, holding her gaze, he tossed the towel onto the end of the bed and went to her with cautious steps. Purposeful, he reached out, removed the offending boot from her hands and dropped it to the floor. Then, still watching her troubled eyes, he slid his palms beneath hers, traced the softness of her hands with the pads of his fingertips as his thumbs brushed over the pulse in her wrists.

Her gaze stuttered, lashes lowered and her breath was long.

Quietly, he told her, "I'm here."

Her face was veiled by the fall of her hair as she stared down at his feet. His unmarked, bare feet.

"Tifa..." Low and steady, his voice encouraged her to look at him. She didn't.

_Don't hide from me. _

More hesitant than he had been in awhile, Cloud brushed her hair back, tucked the still damp strands behind her ear and cupped her face. A step forward, a breath apart and he lowered his forehead to hers. "Tifa."

She stood very still while the shadows of the room played over her face. And just when doubt began to creep across his skin, finally, she lifted her eyes to his. He searched her face, the depths of those velvet eyes and found himself grappling with what he saw there.

Hope.

Hurt.

Confusion.

Pain.

It was the pain that coiled him, the pain that sharpened his own eyes to electric blue, and the pain that softened his touch. He'd put that there. He knew it. Tried to deny it, but at the core of himself, he_ knew_ it.

He tilted his head, ever so slightly, until his lips brushed hers, like a whisper.

Her fingers clenched over his hand and his name was a slow exhale. She sounded so tired. Bone weary.

Cloud stroked the backs of his fingers along her cheek before he lifted his head away from her. He watched her over his shoulder as he walked to the bed, and as he pulled the coverlet back. Her brows furrowed, creased above her nose and he was unprepared for the sadness that look sent through him.

Purposeful, he eased down onto the bed and slid over to allow for her.

Her steps were less eager than he would have liked, and when she stopped beside the mattress, uncertainty evident on her too pale face, he held his hand up to her. Her own hands pressed over her heart, holding an invisible ache.

"Tifa," he turned his hand, palm up, beseeching. "Come lie with me. Please."

There was a tiny, brief moment of hesitation, shadows still swirling in her eyes, but then she blinked them away and reached out.

His fingers closed around hers and he drew her down alongside of him so that they lay face to face.

It had been weeks—maybe even months—since he'd been with her like this and he felt his pulse all the way to his toes. "Hey," he murmured; both greeting and apology.

"Hey," she answered back, whisper soft. Absent was her reassuring smile and her 'it's okay, Cloud', and he felt something akin to fear, only more desperate, reach in and clutch him. There was a space between them, both physical and more. Space that _he'd_ put there, and space he was determined to close.

His hand moved, rounded her hip like a tether. _Stay. _

Her eyes flickered but she didn't push him away.

Or pull him closer.

"I'm sorry," he said, fingers tightening marginally. "For worrying you."

She nodded. "I know."

Because she would know, he thought. In all the world no one knew him like Tifa did. Forever it seemed, she'd resided in his heart, and she'd been in his head—literally—and understood him—fractured pieces and all—better than he sometimes understood himself. But that knowledge did nothing to quell the guilt he felt, or his own worry now at seeing her looking so defeated when they'd just _won._

Her silent withdrawal tore open something inside of him, cut him worse than any blade ever had.

He'd taken for granted that she would be all right while he was gone, when it was over. Tifa was always all right. Resilient and strong, she was the backbone of their ragtag crew and the glue that held his family together. As much as it pained him to think she'd be just fine without him, it was what he believed. What he'd _had_ to believe in order to walk away.

But now he knew himself for the liar he was. She was no more okay with losing him than he would have been with losing her.

"Tifa, I..." He faltered, swallowed the weight in his throat. Words were never his thing. They tangled around his tongue and made him feel clumsy and stupid. He sighed and it was heavy with the unspoken.

Beside him, Tifa stirred and her lashes fluttered against her cheek, but still she didn't touch him.

In the silence, rain trickled against the windows and the shadows sighed.

"I missed you," he said finally; heat coloring his face, his words.

She tilted her head back, brows up. "You did?"

"Every day," he affirmed and allowed the hand on her hip to ease up her side, dip into her waist. Testing.

Her lips curved, not quite a smile, but gentle and wistful...and encouraging. "I missed you too."

Tension he hadn't realized he was holding seeped from him at that and he allowed his arm to drape around her back, curling to bring her closer. Her palms touched his shoulders and his skin heated, but he paused, uncertain as to whether her touch meant 'pull me closer' or 'stop'.

But then she moved, and her hands slid up to twine around him and then she was nestled against him, her face in the crook of his neck, her breath warm on his skin, and one long leg tucked securely between his. She shivered on his name, a small tremble really, but it shook him to the core, and Cloud pressed his face into her hair and closed his eyes.

_So close._

They'd come so close to happiness, then drifted so far away. He'd lain awake those lonely nights, on that hard plank floor, and cursed fate, secretly hating the planet, and yet undeniably thankful for the time he'd had with her. Even as death encroached on his life, his dreams were his own, and in them there was always Tifa.

Always.

"I thought...I thought I'd lost you." Her voice was quiet, bogged with pain and unshed tears, and a thousand tiny needles. "I thought that maybe... it was my punishment."

Scratch needles. Her words were knives in his heart. He was unprepared for this, he thought. And when he could find his voice, he asked carefully, "Punishment for what?"

A mint sigh against his pulse. "For being selfish. For taking. For wanting...after all we did, after all the lives we cost, I still wanted happiness for myself. For us. Even if I didn't deserve it."

_Tifa. _Cloud shook his head, caught somewhere between disbelief and sadness. How could she think that? Of all the people he'd known in his life, Tifa deserved happiness more than anyone. But he also knew she'd never be ready for it if she didn't let go of the past.

The irony of _him_ thinking this wasn't lost on Cloud and he smirked. Teasing, in a way he hadn't done in a long time, he asked, "What makes you think spending the rest of your life stuck with me isn't your punishment?"

He felt her answering smile against his skin, and relief hummed through him, but her reply, when it came, was serious. "Because being with you feels too good to be punishment." And he soared a bit. "Being away from you. Losing you..." Her shoulders stiffened, her hands tightened, and he plummeted.

"But you didn't lose me," he reminded her with a gentle squeeze. "I'm right here. Sephiroth didn't kill me. My boots, sure, but I'm fine. See?" He placed her hand on his chest, over the steady drum of his heart.

"That's not funny, Cloud." She lifted her head again, her eyes a shade of dark cinnamon. "Because I did lose you. You were gone, and I was lost."

And he knew then that this had nothing to do with his boot, or near death, but had everything to do with his leaving her. Reluctant, he tried to put himself in her place and the stark, harsh emptiness he felt at just the _thought_ was enough to have him pulling her closer, lips against her temple. "I'm sorry," he whispered. It was inadequate, but it was all he had. He feathered his lips against her cheek, fingers threading into her hair as he shifted so that he could cradle her jaw between his palms. "I'm here now."

He skimmed her mouth with his, barely touching. Even in the dimness of the room, he could see faint color in her cheeks and she softened against him. "I'm here," he repeated, as much for himself as for her.

He angled his head, kissed the corner of her mouth, licked away the flavor of toothpaste. Her startled little gasp made him smirk against her lips and when he lifted his head, he was pleased to see her answering smile. It wasn't in full bloom yet, he noted, but it was genuine and warmed the shadows out of her eyes.

She reached up, stroked his cheek, tugged a lock of his hair and pressed her fingertips to his lips. He could hear the words in his head, although she hadn't spoken._In my dreams, I'll look for your face, the color of your hair, and the sound of your voice. _It had become ritual between her and the kids to try and meet in their dreams—a kind of game, and Cloud closed his eyes briefly, acknowledging the sentiment.

He was welcomed home.

With a soft grunt he settled back against the pillows, rolling his shoulder so that she came with him, her head tucked beneath his chin, her hand over his heart.

"Good night, Cloud."

He'd be damn sure he was there to say: Good morning.

* * *

AN: This one was a bugger for me. Special thanks to Aliale and Bof for their help and input!


	17. Chapter 17

An: I should advise for strong sexual content. A part II to "Home" but not necessary to get the previous chapter, or anything really. Just shameless smut. Enjoy!

* * *

Tifa woke to blue.

Shining, deep, endless blue.

She smiled to herself, still caught in the gossamer web between sleep and wake, and murmured a name. "Cloud."

The blue blinked and so did she.

She blushed a bit when she realized that it was indeed _Cloud _leaning over her, and not phantom Cloud as she'd come to call him.

The arch of his lips encouraged her to reach up and she allowed her fingertips to trace along the line of his jaw. It was a stubborn jaw, but nice, she decided. With just a hint of morning stubble.

Her touch seemed to thaw him and Cloud shifted, nuzzled into her palm. "Mornin'."

She curved against him, pressing her head against his shoulder, the fingers on her other hand curled into his thick hair. She stroked along his nape, her motions rhythmic and peaceful. "Mm, no, not yet," she sighed.

With a muffled sound, one that sounded curiously like a chuckle, Cloud folded his arms around her waist and nestled his face in her hair.

Tifa inhaled a quick breath when she felt Cloud's lips slide against the curve of her neck, moving languorously over her pulse. The brief contact caused her breath to hitch in her throat, and her fingers to tighten around the sunlit strands in her hand.

She shivered when she felt his tongue swirl against her skin, his mouth slowly moving to toward her ear—a spot that drove her nuts. He was wreaking havoc on her senses, she thought, but only fleetingly. In the next instant, her eyes closed on a soft, "Oh."

He found her lobe with the blunt of his teeth and her head tilted back slightly, allowing him unfettered access.

* * *

She was so responsive, Cloud thought with a bit of awe. He ran the palm of one hand along the column of her exposed neck, feeling the blood flow just beneath her skin. She radiated life and vitality, was steel under silk, and yet at the same time she was so incredibly delicate and fragile.

Unexpected tightness in his throat brought his arms around her and he hugged her to him. His voice was whisper soft against her ear. "Tell me what you want."

"Kiss me," she whispered back.

Cloud nuzzled her neck before lifting his head and meeting her gaze. Obliging, he skimmed her lips with his own, mapping her texture. He covered her mouth fully, kissing her and savoring every sensation, relishing the taste of her on his mouth, content to do no more than this, if it was what she wished. Thankful he had this much.

He repeated the kiss again and again. A swirl of tongue, a caress of lips, his hands rising to cradle her face. Long, deep, drugging kisses that had him hard and ready and her soft and pliant.

He pressed his thumb against her moist lower lip, opening her mouth to him. His tongue sank inside, stroked against hers, earning a moan. He felt her shudder, her slender frame pressed so tightly to his and he rocked his hips.

Tifa gasped his name, her breathing ragged and broken and he swelled. Her fingers clenched in his hair, pulling him closer, as if she wanted to absorb him into her. He whispered her name between kisses. Reverent. Aching.

He needed her. So much.

She moaned when his mouth found her collar bone. "Cloud…wait."

Teeth lingered another moment, and then he pulled back, clearly reluctant and searched her face with near glowing eyes. "Stop?" he asked. _Please, not stop. _He would, if she wanted, but that didn't prevent a silent prayer to the contrary.

Tifa met his heavy look, her own eyes hazy with passion. "No. I just wanted to see you."

Gone were the shadows from the night before, and in their stead heat and desire smoldered up at him.

Cloud groaned and levered himself over her. He nipped at her mouth, immediately soothing the small bites with his tongue. With deliberate patience he stroked her; pressed against her swollen breasts, teased her nipples through cotton with sword-tough fingers, and gave an appreciative hum as they peaked. He circled one with his thumb, lowered his mouth to the other and suckled through her tee shirt.

"Cloud!" Startled and sharp, her voice was thick with arousal.

He didn't look up, but teased the bud with the tip of his tongue then slowly lifted the hem of her long shirt. He slid his hands beneath the material, over sleep warm skin and up to roused nipples.

She arched into his touch, her breathy gasps encouraging and inviting. A soft tug on the material asked permission and four hands pulled it up and over her head and threw it onto the floor carelessly. Her underwear followed suit.

"You're beautiful," he said finally, staring at her bathed in early light. And she was. The most beautiful thing he'd ever seen with her athletic body and full breasts laid out before him and her dark hair a stark contrast to the white pillow.

She blushed and he was reminded of how little compliments he really gave her.

"So are you," she said quietly, sincerely.

She reached out and stroked her fingertips down his abdomen and then lower still, and Cloud was forced to drop his head onto her shoulder and grit his teeth. Even through the soft flannel of his bottoms her touch was like a brand.

He backed away only long enough to slide the sleep-pants off, then returned to her. She sighed into his mouth and her hand stroked adoringly. Her thumb caressed the broad head of his erection, stroked and smeared precum, and he closed his eyes briefly as her fingertips trailed light paths over his skin.

Shaken, he trailed his palm over slightly damp curls and her knee came up beside his hip. She rotated up and against his exploring hand, her soft gasps sending shocks down his skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as he stroked and teased. She nuzzled his cheek, kissed the rough hairs, whispered his name over and over and writhed for him.

"Tifa." His voice was a deep rumble. Warm lips fastened to her shoulder, moved along her damp skin, his hot tongue flicking out, tasting her. He captured the tip of one breast between his teeth, rolling her erect nipple between his canines, tugging gently, enjoying her startled gasp.

Then lower still. Over a dip, across a a navel and down still. The scent of her arousal was calling him.

At the first touch of his mouth Tifa arched her back off the bedding, her fingers splayed on the quilt. "Oh!"

* * *

He was doing such wicked things to her. Things that were unexpected and yet so pleasing. He was quite simply driving her mad. She trembled while he swirled his tongue around her sensitive skin and cried out in pleasure as sensation swamped her.

His ministrations were gentle and thorough, and although he'd always taken care with her like this, unselfishly and wholeheartedly, there was something subtly different this time. Maybe it was the sunlight spilling through the blinds that allowed her to _see _or maybe it was that it had been so long, but each flick of his tongue, each brush of lips brought her leaps and bounds closer to release.

She felt his fingers stroking just below his wonderful mouth, testing, sinking and sliding back out, stretching her, readying her. Pressure was building, and she felt a familiar urgent need gathering. "Oh! Oh, please…please, Cloud…" Long strands of hair stuck to her cheeks as she tossed her head back and forth on the pillow.

Her hands curled helplessly in on themselves, the blankets, her breasts. So close...Gods, she was so close. The edge was cutting. _Please... _And then he shifted his shoulders beneath her knees, lifted her slightly off the bed and..._sucked_.

"Cloud!" Pleasure flashed through her and she gripped his hair, holding him in place as her hips bucked and she surged and she writhed against his clever, clever tongue.

She was a thousand pieces of ecstasy when she came down and when she finally managed to focus, she felt tears slip past the corners of her eyes.

* * *

Lifting his head, Cloud watched her shatter. He didn't deserve this, or her, he acknowledge to himself, but he was a greedy bastard and he wouldn't be giving her up, either.

When she lay trembling, partially sated, he bent to kiss along her thigh, her stomach, her breasts, all the while his hand probed slick heat, making her arch off the bed into his touch. He would always love how responsive she was to him.

She gripped his forearms, dragged him up to her. "Now, Cloud." Encouragement encroached on demand and he smirked.

Careful, he braced himself above her, nudged a knee between her thighs. He angled his hips, thrust hard and went utterly still. He closed his eyes, tried to catch his breath. Her fading tremors, the sweet heat from her release pulled at him, seduced his already eager body.

He bit his lower lip, determined not to embarrass himself. It had been awhile, but he wasn't a novice at this, he reminded himself. He knew her body, what she liked, what he liked, and he was damn sure going to make sure he made this last.

Her nails dug into his shoulders when, bit by bit, he began to move, his hips rocking into her pelvis in a dance as old as time.

Her hands roaming his back and chest as he drove into her in deep, long, slow strokes. She circled his hips with her legs, moving against him, trying to draw him ever closer. "I missed you," she rasped, her smoldering voice wreaking havoc on his over sensitized body. "So much."

"Yes," his breath hissed between his teeth. Cloud gripped her hips, his fingers nearly bruising, but not. He reared away from her, watching her face as he drove home, his thrusts slightly more aggressive. His lip curled and his teeth flashed. He watched with hooded eyes, the erotic visual of his cock sliding in and out of Tifa. "Tell me if I hurt you," he told her. "I couldn't stand hurting you."

"You won't," she assured him.

He pressed her firmly into the mattress, looming over her and trailed his hands down her arms, gripped her wrists and pinned them over her head.

She bit his earlobe, pulling the soft skin between her lips and sucking.

He bit her shoulder in response, thrusting just a bit harder. His breath was harsher, his tempo a little less smooth.

Tifa arched, locked her ankles high on his back. "Let go," she crooned.

"Tifa..." He trembled, hips surged, angled higher, harder, deeper. "Tifa."

"I'm here." She opened her mouth, tasted his lips. "Right here." She closed her eyes, shuddered.

"Come for me," he told her and released her wrists so that he could spread her thighs and massage that tight bundle of nerves above the slick slide of him and her.

She rose up on her elbows, watched his fingers, his cock, his face. Lines of tension edged his mouth and he was so close, so intense. "Cloud..."

He lifted his head, stared at her through sweaty strands of blond.

"Harder," she whispered.

His eyes flashed and his jaw clenched and when he hauled her up so that she straddled him, each thrust was hard enough to snap her teeth.

Tifa wrapped her arms around his shoulders, head thrown back as she rode him, greedy and wanton and loving the hard grunts and low moans that he couldn't keep in check. "Cloud..." She jerked her hips faster, so that the lower part of his abdomen brushed against her swollen clit. She grabbed his hair, arched all the way back and cried out. "I'm coming, I'm coming, Cloud."

Wet. Gods, she was so hot and wet and he couldn't stop; didn't want to stop, and as her inner walls suctioned him, swallowed him, he let himself go with a low groan and streams of heat.

Five minutes later, sweat cooled and dry on salty skin, he finally lowered her to the bed. He cupped her face, kissed her softly and lay down beside her.

"Good morning," he murmured, nuzzled her temple.

Her smile was satisfied and sleepy. "Now it is."


	18. Chapter 18

Battle Cries and Lessons Learned

NC-17

* * *

She should have known she wouldn't even be able to pee in peace, Tifa thought, and she dodged another swipe of a spiked tail as she hastily hauled her underwear back up under her skirt.

The creature (what the hell was _this_ one called again?) snarled it's displeasure and rounded on her, muzzle open wide and forked tongue lolling to the ground.

She danced back and debated over whether to attack or try to leave. She didn't enjoy killing, and hoped to avoid it if she could. Maybe if she lured it closer to the rocks, she could leap over it and make her way back to camp...

Blood erupted like a geyser and Tifa's eyes widened when the animal staggered suddenly, then fell to it's side, dead before it hit the ground. Behind it, blue eyes eerie in the twilight, Cloud stood, Buster Sword smeared crimson.

"Cloud—?"

He wiped the blade in the long grass. "You didn't tell me you were leaving." His voice was hard, disapproving.

She blinked. Why is it he always had ithat/i tone with her? He never used that voice with the others. Even at his most commanding there was an aloofness in him that prevented the cut of disappointment that she heard so often when he spoke to her.

"I wasn't aware I had to." She hadn't meant to sound defensive, but she was tired of feeling like his personal burden.

"It's not safe." He gave the monster a pointed look.

Tifa snorted, an indelicate sound that had his eyebrows quirking. "I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you think you can," his lips arched a bit. "But it's different out here than in the slums. You'll have to be able to handle more than just a grumpy drunk."

Irritation flickered along her spine; straightened it. "And I can," she insisted.

"I could give you some pointers," he offered, that smug little smirk still on his face.

"No thanks." She shook her head and silently counted to ten. He was just trying to help in his own way, she reminded herself. Ignoring him, she crouched to re-lace her boot and gasped when she found the edge of his sword beneath her chin.

"You can't ever let your guard down," he scolded. "Not even around me."

Irritated, she shoved the blade away and stood. "Sorry if I don't expect my comrades to attack me."

"You need to expect the unexpect—Hey!"

Tifa felt her own flare of smug satisfaction when the Buster Sword was knocked back, and Cloud's balance was thrown by the flat of her palm. She adjusted her stance, inclined her head. "You were saying?"

Something hard glittered in his too-blue eyes and Tifa felt adrenaline surge, fingers tingle. She watched the angle of his foot, saw him correct his weight and when the sword sang through the air she was already leaping, catching him in the side with her boot as she dodged.

She laughed a bit at his disgruntled expression, and couldn't resist taunting. "Where are those SOLDIER reflexes?"

He turned, narrowed his gaze on her and then she was driven forcefully back, barely managing to avoid swipe after swipe from that massive sword. He was fast. Faster than anyone she'd ever seen, but she wasn't some novice Ninja and after a few moments, she saw his pattern and predicted his next attack.

She countered with a swift kick and slammed her heel into the flat of the blade. It hit the ground at an angle and she used it as a ramp to run straight at his head, her legs scissoring around his neck as she allowed her momentum to throw them both.

She rolled, coming up to a crouch, and glowered when he did the same.

"Nice," he acknowledged, but she detected not admiration in his voice, but anger. He rose with purpose, took his fighting stance again.

The angle of the sword drew her attention to the blood still staining the metal and she felt the first bit of unease. How far was Cloud going to take this? She didn't have time to wonder long. The ground shook and a beam of energy arced toward her, so fast she barely had time to cross her arms in front of her face.

She grunted; the heels of her boots digging six inch valleys into the dirt. She barely had time to blink away the shock before he was at her again. Reacting on instinct, she swiveled, swung her leg up and felt something soft meet with her steel-toe.

Cloud's grunt confirmed contact, but her victory was short lived. His hand closed around her ankle, and then she was airborne, tossed like a rag doll against the rocks. She dropped onto all fours, sucked in a deep breath.

"Now. Imagine if I wasn't holding back." His voice was calm, without inflection. "Because the people we're up against, they won't. Know your limits. I won't always be around to save you."

"You asshole!" she seethed, launched herself up and charged. She had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen a fraction before her fist took him in the jaw. She used the ball of her palm to knock him back another step, and another.

And with each hit something inside of her tore open, raw and angry. "When were you _ever_ around to save me?"

And then it got ugly.

He stopped dodging and she stopped caring and each hit was hard enough to stagger.

It only took a minute—maybe less—for her anger to fizzle and guilt to halt sore fists. She lowered her hands, panting and when he turned his face back to her, she gasped. "Oh...Cloud..." What had she done?

"Finished?" he asked, ice cold.

She nodded, once and only slight, and then he imoved./i One second a few feet away, and the next he was throwing her onto the ground.

The impact knocked the remaining breath from her lungs and the heavy weight of him bore her into the dirt. His thighs were hard on hers, his grip unyielding as he yanked her arms over her head, pinned them there.

"That soft heart of yours is gonna get you killed." His eyes flickered over her face, then lower. "Or worse." When he lowered his head his lips were rough, punishing.

She tore her mouth away, and told him to, "Stop it."

"Make me."

Of all the childish, ridiculous...! She arched like a bow, trying in vain to toss him off, but all she managed to do was complicate their position with the part of her legs and the sudden, heavy heat of his arousal shocked her to stillness.

His eyes shimmered somewhere between green and blue. "Doesn't feel good to be helpless does it?" he asked, voice harsh. "Unable to stop someone from hurting you," he squeezed her wrists and she winced, "from taking from you," and his tongue was invasive and demanding, "from breaking you," he ground himself against her.

But it was his eyes that shuttered and his broken groan that sounded in the clearing.

Tifa, born fighter, pressed the unexpected advantage, and angled her hips, planted her foot and shifted so that she flipped them over and she now straddled him, her leather skirt shoved up high on her thighs. She stared down at him, her wrists still locked in his fists, pressed to his chest.

"You won't break me," she told him, very quiet. Very serious. "So stop trying."

And just like that he let go.

His hands fell to his sides and he refused to meet her gaze.

Tifa studied his averted profile, the cut at his temple, the bruises already forming on his cheek, and she leaned forward, surprising both of them, and traced the wounds with her tongue. These were surface, and superficial, and the wounds that really needed healing she couldn't reach with her mouth, but she'd try.

She eased back slowly, the motion adding friction between herself and the stiffness beneath his fatigues.

Cloud's breath was harsh and his eyes harsher. He gripped her hips, pushed her down as he arched up, and Tifa let out a low moan, embarrassing herself with the wanton sound. He repeated the motion and this time she bit her lip.

"No," he said, "I want to hear you." He flexed his hips.

"Cloud." Her fingers tightened on his sweater and she gasped a "please" when he angled up, ijust right/i.

His lips curved at the corners but it wasn't mocking, and that alone was enough to dampen her underwear even more. She widened her legs until her skirt was near painfully tight on her thighs and rocked against him.

Half lidded and dark, his eyes traveled over her face, over the evident press of nipples against white cotton, over her revealed abdomen until they lingered on peek-a-boo lace.

"Tifa." It was more groan than word, and her hips lurched on it.

His breath was ragged but his fingertips were light as he trailed the red welt he'd put above her navel. His touch was achingly gentle and Tifa sighed, closed her eyes. They shot open a moment later when she felt the scrape of fingernail against damp cotton.

"Off," he murmured, working her through the material, thumb pressing and circling and...

"Oh, oh, Gods..." She dropped her head back, and rode his fingers. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't what she wanted and he ineeded/i, so she pushed his hand aside and raised up onto her knees.

Shaking hands clumsily fumbled for his zipper and after a hiss and a sigh, she carefully eased his thick erection from his pants. She slipped her underwear to the side, not wasting time with undressing, and lowered herself over him.

She closed around him the moment he was inside of her, tight and hot.

"Ah, hell," his throat convulsed and he closed his eyes.

Tifa smiled down at him and rolled her hips, sending pleasure shooting through both of them. She bent forward, veiled them in the fall of her hair. Then her lips were on his throat, his face, his mouth, their teeth clashing in desperation as her hips pumped and pumped.

It was a far more grueling battle than the one they'd just had, and Tifa knew instinctively that this was the one she had to win. So when he tried to lever himself up and take control, she flexed, pulled his hair and rode him harder.

When he came, it was a shuddering climax that spilled her name with his seed and Tifa smiled.

This round was hers.


	19. Chapter 19

OTP War Ficlets

From the *annual OTP War held kimouski's LJ

Eye contact

_Something hard_, as it turned out, was whiskey on the rocks, and she'd made it just how he liked it. Not that he noticed, she sulked. He hadn't even acknowledged her.

"Teef, come over here, girl. Lemme look at you."

Frowning, Tifa stepped from behind the bar in front of Barret, who, as he studied her, made a series of "Mmhmm" noises in his throat.

"What?" she asked finally, annoyed.

"Just checkin' that you were still in proper order. The way Spiky was talkin' to you, I wondered if your eyes had relocated to your chest."

Conservation

At the foot of the stairs, Cloud paused, his head cocked inquiringly as he noticed the long line of men outside the inn. All with towels in their hands, all with eager expressions on their faces. He strolled through the crowd, curious, until he spotted Barret at the front.

The other man wore one of the darkest scowls Cloud had ever seen on him, and he looked ready to gun down the entire throng of people.

"What's going on?" Cloud asked when he was within earshot.

"Apparently this damn town has limited water supply. Communal showers." Barret pointed at one of the men in the crowd. "I see you. Don't even think about it. Not unless you wanna wear your ass as a hat, pal."

Cloud frowned, still not quite understanding what Barret's problem was. "And?"

Barret's eyes never left the crowd when he replied, "Tifa's in the shower."

"Oh?" Cloud blinked, then realization hit and he shot the line of men a death glare. He grabbed the nearest man, yanked his towel from his hands, shoved him back. "Beat it," he snarled.

The man spluttered, but obeyed. He bumped several others in his haste to get away from glaring Mako.

Cloud sent the same look over the rest of the crowd and gave a satisfied grunt when they began to disperse. A few minutes later and the area was empty.

"Sometimes you're useful," Barret acknowledged.

"Thanks." With a low whistle, Cloud slung the towel over his shoulder and started toward the door.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"Shower."

Barret's big hand scrunched the material at the nape of his neck. "Good try, Spiky."

Midnight Snack 

She was standing, half-asleep, in the kitchen when he walked in. Her eyes were heavy lidded and her lashes feathered against her cheeks in longer and longer strokes as she fought to stay awake.

From the doorway he watched the curve of her hand as she painstakingly adorned chocolate frosting with petite pink flowers. Something in his chest kicked when he thought what a wonderful mother she was.

When she finally leaned back to rub at the kink in her neck, he cleared his throat. Her eyes darted toward him with defensive wariness that was immediately replaced by warmth and welcome. How anyone could look at _him _in such a way was a mystery, but she did. Each and every time she saw him.

"Hi," she greeted and dropped her frosting tube onto the table. She wiped her hands on her dish-towel before stepping to him.

"Hey," he murmured, folding her against his chest.

"Mmm," she nuzzled in, sighed. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

He inhaled against her hair. She smelled of cake, and warmth, and home. "I know. Couldn't wait."

She smiled. He could feel it.

"I'm glad." She backed up a step, took in his windblown appearance with a smile. "I think there's some left-over stew in here." She was already headed to the refrigerator. "Hungry?"

He stepped behind her as she rummaged for food and wrapped his arms around her waist, drew her back against him and nuzzled her nape. When she let out a breathy giggle, he spun her around, angled her a wicked grin. "Yes."


	20. Chapter 20

AN: Written for the wonderful sekiharatae on LJ. No plot to be found anywhere, and definitely NC-17. Enjoy!

* * *

Ties and Trust

The bar was dark—the blinds drawn and doors locked tight—by the time Cloud pulled Fenrir into the small garage behind the building. Quietly, he swung himself off of the custom motorcycle and removed his goggles, rubbing at the back of his neck to work out the kinks he'd earned form a long day. He had hoped to be home much sooner than this, but two last minute add-on deliveries had extended his day by several hours.

The extra gil was worth it, though, he thought, as he slipped worn leather from his hands to be tucked into his back pocket. With Edge's new school starting, the kids were in need of new clothes and supplies, and rather than having Tifa keep the bar open extended hours, Cloud decided to take on the extra workload. She did enough for their family as it was, and after all he'd put her through, it was the least he could do.

Just thinking of her eased something deep inside of him, and he felt some of the day's tension ebb. He hung his goggles on the peg beside the door, and hastened his steps. If he was lucky, she would still be awake.

With the stealth he was known for, Cloud made his way quickly and quietly through the small kitchen area and up the darkened stairwell, being careful to avoid the fourth step and it's creaky weak spot. He peeked in the kids room as he passed, and felt his usual surge of warmth and protectiveness at the sight of their curled, sleeping bodies.

Maybe he'd take them to the park tomorrow. They hadn't been in awhile and it'd be nice to spend the day with the family. He had a handful of early morning deliveries, but they were all in Edge, so there would be time. He'd run it by Tifa, but he was sure she'd agree. She was always happy to spend "family" time together.

His steps and thoughts faltered when he pushed open the door to the room he and Tifa shared and realized that the bed in front of him was completely empty, and still neatly made. He frowned and scratched the back of his head. The lights had been off downstairs, he had been certain...

The faint click of the lock behind him had him swinging around and his mouth parting to let out a sharp breath. Wrapped in shadows and lace, Tifa Lockhart stopped his heart.

The smile on her face bloomed beautifully as she took in his silent reaction and in it Cloud saw sultry invitation and a hint of naughty. "Hi," she said in her smoke and steel voice, and his balls tightened.

He nodded in response, struck speechless by the sight of soft, sheer, dark material molded against her skin, accenting hollows and curves that he knew by heart, but still managed to enthrall him. Held together by the tiniest of black ribbons, Cloud wondered if the flimsy material could even qualify as 'clothing'. Not that he was complaining. Not at all.

He swallowed, and carefully, discreetly, adjusted himself..

Tifa chuckled, the sound warm and sensual and threaded with definite mischief. "You like?" she asked, turning slowly to show off the back, and Cloud forgot how to think, much less speak.

Open, save for delicate ribbons at her shoulders, the lingerie dipped just above the sweet curve of her backside with one tiny, vagrant, bow playing with the dimple at the base of her spine. A particular spot that Cloud loved to lave and tease with the very tip of his tongue... And, Gaia, help him, she wasn't wearing panties.

Oh, yes. He liked. _Very _much. And just as soon as he figured out how to work his voice again, he'd let her know. But even after several swallows he was unable to form anything more articulate than a shallow grunt, so he simply nodded and let the bright glow of his Mako eyes answer for him.

"You're late," she rebuked gently, slanting him a smoldering glance over her shoulder.

"Sorry." Cloud murmured, distracted by the fall of her hair. Long, and dark as midnight, it would be silk-soft to the touch, slightly cool and thick on his skin. His fingers twitched, ached to be buried in that dark tangle. He stepped toward her, intent on giving into that very urge, and found himself frowning when she stepped away, shaking her head, with her slightly damp bottom lip pouted in that oh-so-sexy way of hers.

"Not so fast," she told him as she sauntered—and that really was the only word to describe the pants-tightening way her hips swayed—around him, her eyes taking on a shade of dark crimson in the moonlight. "Before you get this..." she made a sweeping gesture along herself, "there's something I want from you."

"Anything," he answered without hesitation, his voice rough.

Her lips curved up a bit at the corners at that, in the smile that was only ever for him. Mysterious. Sexy. _His_. "I'm glad you said that," she whispered, stepping closer; close enough that her scent—jasmine and arousal—flared his nostrils. "Because what I want from you...is control."

"Control...?" Cloud repeated around his thick tongue. _Damn, she smelled good..._

"Mmhmm." Tifa lifted her hand, letting a looped length of red, satin cord droop.

Cloud's eyes widened. _Shit. _He had meant to throw those ropes out weeks ago. He felt heat color his neck and face and his brain struggled to come up with a reasonable explanation for having kept them, but he found none. And the truth was, he didn't know exactly why he had held onto them.

One of his delivery regulars was a 'massage' parlor in Wutai. A small place, on the outskirts of the capital city that was both classy and exotic. The owner was an attractive woman who held herself with a regal air and carried about her a knowledge that went well beyond her years. She had insisted Cloud take the braided ropes, telling him that: "Only when we _choose_ to be bound, are we free enough to let go." He didn't understand it then, and he wasn't any closer to understanding that cryptic message now, but seeing the satin dangling from Tifa's hand made something in him..._clench _and he struggled to find the proper response.

_Was_ there a proper response?

At his hesitation, uncertainty flickered on Tifa's face and her lashes shuttered her eyes. "If—if you don't want to..."

And Cloud was having none of that. She'd done too much, gone through too much with him—_for _him—to feel anything in the realm of uncertain. If she wanted it, he would give it. Simple as that.

With aching tenderness, he cupped her face, ran his thumb across her cheekbone, and drew her eyes up to meet his. "Tell me what you want me to do," he murmured, lowering his head so that his breath whispered over her parted lips as he wrapped his arms around her. It always felt just right to have her pressed to him.

Tifa brushed the tips of her fingers against his face; her touch soothing. Loving. "Trust me?" she whispered, and a muscle twitched in his jaw and his heart lurched in his chest. That she would question it burned him. Of course he trusted her. With his life, his heart, his future...with _everything._

"Tifa," he whispered. Her name; his answer.

Her breath was heated silk and her mouth hot satin when she tilted her head and kissed his neck. She nipped at the skin gently, laving the small bites with the flat of her tongue and all thought left his mind, replaced by mindless, scorching hunger and his hands flexed against the smooth skin of her back. Open mouthed, she trailed her teeth along the corded tendons of his neck until she could nibble at the wolf stud in his ear.

"Missed you," she sighed.

Cloud made a sound that was part groan, part chuckle. It was surreal, having Tifa seduce him—and doing such a damn good job of it. Not that she hadn't been an active participant in their very healthy sex life, but there were still some things that they were both unsure of and lines that remained firmly laid out in the sand.

Tifa was always responsive, encouraging, and eager, but rarely the initiator. Having her fingers tangled in his hair and her supple body pressed wantonly against his with her hips undulating in just _that_ way... it made his blood thicken and need spread through him like fire over dry tinder.

Cloud sucked in his breath when her wandering lips found the pulse of his throat, soft and vulnerable, and she took a small section of salty skin into her mouth.

"You taste good," she licked the small red spot, her voice soft and breathless.

Cloud closed his eyes, and tilted his head to give her better access. His palm, warm and firm, settled beneath her breast and his thumb brushed across its taut peak.

Her reply was an immediate throaty moan, one that had him repeating the motion and her teeth scraped at his collar in reprimand. "Cloud," she gasped.

His name in _that _tone sent another ripple of heat through him, straight to his groin. With a soft growl, Cloud pulled her tighter and bent her back over his arm, his mouth dampening her breasts through the sheer fabric. He moved against her, hard and thick, and separated by too many clothes. Slightly demanding, he angled himself between her thighs, rubbing against the moist heat there.

"I can't...oh, gods, Cloud, I can't think when you do that," she gasped, one long leg rising to curl at his hip and her hand tightened on his hair.

"Good," his teeth flashed as he teased a pebbled peak with the very tip of his tongue. "Don't think."

"Not this time." Tifa surprised him with a gentle push, breaking his hold. He didn't get a chance to protest, however, because the next instant her hands were bunching the cotton of his black tee-shirt and she was shoving the material up as she was going down. Lean piano fingers teased his stomach muscles, causing them to contract with each delicate brush.

Cloud rested his hands on her shoulders, fingers reflexively massaging the tension he felt there. She was nervous, he realized, somewhat surprised, and felt his heart give another kick. She never had reason to be nervous with him. She had been perfection to him since the age of eight and that hadn't changed.

He brushed midnight strands from her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Tifa."

Lowered on her knees, she nuzzled his palm in response to her name and placed a soft, open mouthed, kiss to its center before she followed the caress of her fingers on his stomach with her tongue. She reached around, grasped the hard muscle of his buttocks, and pulled him even closer to her seeking mouth when she felt him shudder.

Cloud's groan was low and guttural, torn from somewhere deep in his throat. And it was her turn to smirk against warm skin, one hand tugging at the buckle of his belt while the other found and cupped him through his zipper. Cloud groaned again, his hips lurching into her eager grip.

She was familiar with all the things he liked from her, and it showed in the way her mouth moved across his abdomen, open and slick, and they way her fingers tightened marginally around him. It had him fighting the urge to yank her up and press her against the wall and just _have _her.

"The bed," came her breathless command as leather slipped free with a flick of her wrist. "Undress and lie on the bed."

She didn't have to tell him twice. Cloud divested himself of his remaining clothing, silently cursing the number of buckles that adorned his apparel, before tossing it away, heedless of where it all fell.

As his clothes hit the floor, it was Tifa's turn to be struck speechless. He was perfection, she thought with a throb, low in her belly, watching as he lowered himself onto the bed and rolled onto his back, hands tucked behind his head, erection standing proudly at attention between his thighs.

He was so utterly beautiful.

Slow, carefully even steps, took her to the edge of the bed and she let the rope trail from her fingers, mesmerized by the way the electric blue of his eyes followed the crimson line, and she found herself wondering if he'd ever thought about this before. Gaia knew she had.

When she found the ropes a few weeks ago, while cleaning his office, she had recognized them and the silver box they had been tucked in immediately. Everyone of drinking age knew what _The Silver Pearl _was, and the idea that Cloud had brought home something so intimate and bold made her simultaneously nervous and excited.

And within a matter of days Tifa had conjured up a number of fantasies involving Cloud using the soft restraints on her, but, to her surprise, it was the fantasies that emerged of _her_ using them on _him _that had left her shaking and throbbing and hands damp with her own release.

But as days turned into weeks and Cloud never approached her with the silk ties, or even mention he i_had_ /ithem, she began to wonder if he thought she was too timid for such things, and that's when she decided to take the matter into her own hands.

Intense and fierce, loving and tender, they had never suffered from a lack of passion in the bedroom, but even when she was sobbing, screaming, and begging through orgasm after orgasm, there was always a level of control with Cloud that he refused to relinquish.

She expected that it had to do with his not wanting to be vulnerable, and after the hellish torment Hojo had put him through—something he _still_ had a hard time talking about—Tifa didn't blame him. But she wanted Cloud to experience the same freedom that he gave her. She wanted him to know that it was okay for him to not always be the one in control, because he had her to keep him pleasured—to keep him safe.

Even still, she found herself hesitating as she leaned over his chest, prepared to secure his wrist to the bedpost. Feeling the weight of his too-blue eyes on her, she offered from behind the fall of her hair, "You don't have to. It's okay."

And in true Cloud fashion he simply brushed his lips against her inner arm and murmured, "I said: anything," in that low, soft voice of his.

He was accommodating and pliant, allowing her to maneuver him to her liking as she tied the knots. Every so often his mouth would open and he'd press those sinful lips somewhere—her arm, her breast, her hair—wherever he could reach, and she'd tremble and forget how to tie. But eventually she'd remember, and after a few more lingering kisses and slow stroking, she managed to secure him to the wooden headboard

Body thrumming and eager, with tell-tale dampness between her thighs, she leaned back to admire him. She had only restrained his arms, not wanting to make him immobile or perpetuate any feeling of helplessness, but staring at him now she found her mouth suddenly dry and her heart hammering beneath her breast.

He looked anything but helpless.

Heat smoldered from his steady gaze and her skin tingled as though his hands were on her and she bit her lip to stifle a wanton moan. _His _lips curved at the corner and the banked ring of green in his eyes flickered to life. He _knew_, she thought, blushing. He knew she was turned on by the way his eyes raked over her; the possession she saw there.

Tifa fought the urge to squirm as his eyes continued to roam, lingering over shadows and peaks. She'd never have the nerve to continue beneath the lazy heat of his gaze. Even bound, spread out like an offering, it was him in control. He'd _allowed_ her to subdue him, but his gaze was still a brand, and far too knowing.

"One more thing," she muttered, leaning across his chest.

She heard his soft intake of breath as the loose strands of her hair trailed across his skin, and it made her smile. She took her time fumbling with the drawer of her nightstand, allowing the very tips of her breasts and hair to brush—oh so fleetingly—across him.

"Tifa," he growled. Part humor, part warning.

"Mm?" She slid an innocent look up at him from beneath her lashes.

He wasn't fooled.

Still, she made no rush to move away, even after her hands closed around black silk. Only after a second warning rumble did she move. Deliberately slow, she shifted back so that she was at his hip, one leg curled beneath her and the other dangling over the edge of the bed.

"Lift your head," she told him, whisper soft.

Curious, but obedient, he did as told.

Careful not to pull at the longer strands of gold, Tifa slipped her sleep-mask over his head.

"Wait," he said, and the tension in his voice prevented her from lowering the mask. "Why the blindfold?"

"Because I can't think when you look at me," she answered, frank and honest.

That seemed to settle and unnerve him all at once. His mouth curved up, but his body tightened. Tifa could actually see the steady drum of his heartbeat in his neck and after exactly 17 beats he nodded, only once, and said, "All right."

She smiled at him, gentle and encouraging, before her lips brushed each eyelid and she replaced their silk with cool satin. And then he couldn't see.

But he could feel.

Gods above, he could feel.

Tifa, hands suddenly steady and sure, tugged his hips, pulling him closer so that she could sling her leg over both of his, her damp heat resting on his thighs. The closeness prompted him to shift upwards—ever so slightly—and the movement was accompanied by a breathless moan. His lips slanted up, and he was reassured by her responsiveness.

The soft play of her fingertips against skin that tingled was subtle torture. Blind, he was left wondering where each new caress would land. It was a unique, but disconcerting, sensation to feel her hovering, so close... then_ there_. It reminded him of long ago times, and the peripheral sensations he had as he laid strapped to a table with movement around him that he could never see.

But bad memories were shoved aside in the next instant, when Tifa leaned up, her palms flush to his chest, massaging, flexing, easing and arousing simultaneously. So many contradictory sensations and emotions had him sighing her name, and pressing into her touch.

He felt, more than heard, her soft murmur and Cloud could almost picture her: head tilted, eyes half closed, watching her hands move on him. Perhaps she was running the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, like she did whenever she concentrated on a task.

That image, along with the sensations she pressed on him, had his erection twitching.

"Feel good?" she asked, voice husky and laced with want.

"Yes," he managed, voice aching and laced with need.

"Good. But not good enough," she leaned over him. "I want to make you crazy, like you make me." With that proclamation, her mouth settled over his warm skin. Lips and teeth and hair tracing delicious patterns across his stomach.

She moved slowly, lazily, unhurried and so thorough. Every inch of his skin was sampled, with extra attention paid to flat nipples and raised scars. Cloud startled a bit when her tongue prodded his navel and her teeth nipped him, before she began swirling a happy little path lower...and lower...until he shuddered and arched and urged, silently pleading...

_Please...please...there...yes...!_

Her breath—soft and warm—teased the head of his erection and his fingers tightened against the ropes, bunching reflexively.

His breath—stuttered and broken—hissed between clenched teeth and his back arched clear off the bed at the first flick of her tongue against rigid flesh and Cloud desperately wanted to tear the blindfold off so that he could _see_.

Another soft, wet, lap against his skin and he gave a muted groan, turning his face into the curve of his shoulder. _She was driving him mad... _

She took him then, in her hands, stroking and cupping, testing the limits of his control while her lips lingered over the tip. Cloud groaned when he felt one lone fingernail scrape the underside of heavy flesh.

"So sensitive." Her voice was a hum against his cock and his hips bucked of their own accord, aching with need; urgent and demanding, and he groaned when hot, moist heat closed around him.

Cloud's hands tightened on the bonds and strangled version of her name slipped from him. Even mutilated by his clumsy speech, it was the most beautiful word he'd ever heard. That name had been his anchor through so much, and saying it now, hearing the possession and desire in his own voice—knowing he had the _right _to say it just that way—it was more than he had ever hoped for.

"Mine," he muttered, straining against rope and control.

"Yours," she agreed easily. Her lips tightened around that aching flesh, pulling him deeper. She swirled her tongue along the pulsing vein in her mouth and Cloud shivered, fighting back the urge to brace his feet apart and push up into that sinful suctioning.

Teeth slipped up to catch the against the head of his cock, while her deft, clever tongue pressed against and into the slit at the top. _Ifrit, save him! _Where in the hell did she learn _that_ little trick?

"Gaia, Tifa," the breath left his body in a rush. "You just might kill me." Her tongue swirled again, her hand reaching down to stroke the soft skin behind his balls and his hips rocked, in a rough rhythm that he suddenly had no control over. She was going to make him come, he realized as another stab of pleasure lanced him, pulled everything into a hot pool; and he didn't want that.

Well, he _wanted that_, but when he came, he wanted to be buried deep inside of her, with her screaming his name to Shiva and beyond.

"Tifa..."

Her mouth lifted but he could still hear gentle sucking. "Yes?" she asked, finally.

Not that he could answer. Because at that moment her hand curved around his balls and her damp index finger circled once—twice—then pressed testingly against his anus. A strangled sound escaped him when her lips closed around his cock again and she pushed her finger in just a bit more.

He sucked in a harsh breath, back bowing. Shuddering, he swallowed gulps of air as she used her mouth and hand to do things he'd never even _dreamed _of her doing to him. Trying to stave off the inevitable end, he focused on the black over his eyes, tried counting in his head... but it was no use. She was pushing, pulling, _dragging _him over the edge of sanity and reason, and it felt so fucking good...

"Cloud," his name was a wet caress. "Come for me. Let me taste you. Let go; I'll catch you. I promise."

Oh, hell.

He bucked up, heels digging into the mattress and he heard a small gasp from Tifa, felt one of her hands tighten at the base of his cock and the other slip from him to hold him steady at his hip. And he came.

Back arched, shoulders and heels the only parts of him touching the bed, he came with her name on his lips in a shuddering, numbing stream of pleasure that bordered on pain.

"Mmm..." Tifa's throaty murmur caused another spasm; a small shiver of fire and ice that skittered up and back and through him. Wordlessly, he collapsed against the bed, chest rising and falling sharply with labored breath. He felt her smile against him as she slowly released his waning erection, giving one last, lingering kiss.

"See you," he rasped. "Let me see you."

Weight shifted and the mattress dipped, and for a moment there was silence and stillness, but then the mask was slipped up and off and pale skin and dark eyes filled his vision.

"Hi," she said shyly, her face dusky even in the dark.

The mako blue of his eyes was vibrant in the shadows and as usual, Tifa found herself mesmerized by the swirling colors. Removing the blindfold revealed simmering heat and sated desire, but also curiosity and surprise, and she felt herself blushing furiously. She ducked her head a bit and tugged at her bottom lip with her front teeth. Had she been too bold?

"Look at me."

Soft and even, his voice was as unruffled as ever, but there was a subtle undercurrent in it that she'd never heard before. Leveling her shoulders, determined to meet his gaze, even if her heart was thundering and her face was burning, she turned her head and met his stare.

What she saw was raw and dangerous. "I want to touch you."

Again there was a note in his voice that she didn't quite know, and it sent shivers through her.

One eyebrow rose and Tifa turned more fully, facing him, studiously watching his expression. "You do? Where?" she asked with a demure lowering of her lashes, and Cloud's eyes narrowed. "Here?" She cupped her breasts in her palms and his breath hitched, blue and green mixing in an electric cocktail.

He licked his lips. "Yes, there."

"I like it when you touch me here," she commented with a toss of her hair, squeezing gently.

"So do I," he whispered, gaze fastened on her breasts.

"Where else?" she asked, and Cloud swallowed before answering: "Lower."

With fingers splayed, Tifa's hands slipped from her breasts, over the silky material of her lingerie, along the slim curves of her waist and flat belly.

"Lower," he told her again when she paused, his mouth dry.

With her bottom lip caught by her front teeth, Tifa slipped her hands lower, fingers dancing over places Cloud would give anything to touch. "Lean back," he ordered. "Let me see."

Long legs, toned by hours of workouts and hundreds of miles walked, bent and spread as Tifa propped herself back on her elbows, her hair tickling his feet. "Like this?"

_Oh, hell, yes! _"Show me." Cloud knew many men that would give up vital organs to be in his exact position and he couldn't help but feel smugly satisfied at that. "Show me what you like, Tifa."

Trembling fingers circled over slick skin, pressing ever so slightly, then retreating to drift along her seam. "I do this," she moaned, "when you're gone too long, but it's not the same..."

_No, it wasn't...but it was damn sexy._

"Do you think about me?" she asked, moaning as her middle finger brushed her swollen clit.

"Yes."

"What do you think about?"

Was she really expecting him to talk right now? All the blood was leaving his brain and surging through him, tightening and hardening his cock again.

"Cloud...?"

"You riding me," he answered finally, tongue skirting the edges of his lips.

"Mmmm," Tifa shifted, curling her knees up, giving him a completely unobstructed view as she let two fingers sink in. "I like riding you."

Cloud's head dropped back; hands flexing. This was torture.

Her hand moved. Fingers stroking in and out, in and out.

"Tifa," he growled. "Untie me."

Mouth parted, eyes half-lidded she shook her head, hips rising to meet the caress of her hand. "Oh, Gods, Cloud..."

His cock twitched. "Tifa. Now."

Her hand slid from between her thighs and with a sultry look she crawled over him. "Yes. Now." She placed her hands on his shoulders, and levered herself up, braced against the wall of his chest and the teasing tip of his erection.

She sank onto him in a slow glide of heat and pleasure and Cloud slammed his head against the pillows, her name torn from his throat.

Tifa arched over him, clenching her inner muscles and dragging out another groan.

She was so tight, so hot and wet. She was beautiful, he thought, gazing up at her. Her mouth was parted, her eyes were closed, long lashes fanning her rosy cheeks. And she was his. Only his.

As if sensing his thoughts, she lowered her head, placed her mouth on his just as she angled her hips and ground down onto him. She stole his breath and swallowed his cry of her name. Her tongue flicked, slid over his teeth and deeper until Cloud wasn't sure where the kisses started and stopped.

All he knew was that she was hot and wet everywhere and she was demanding and ruthless—and Gods he loved her for it. His hips lurched, bucking up and he grinned around her startled cry.

But Tifa was a fighter, trained to give as good as she got, and the next instant Cloud was closing his eyes and trying to keep from shouting as she straightened and reached behind her to cup him as she _bounced _on him.

It was too much.

He wanted to touch her--_needed_--to touch her. Her skin, glowing with sweat and lust...Her hair, damp and long, tangled over strong shoulders...Her breasts—those legendary breasts—full and round, begging to be suckled....

The bedpost snapped like dry tinder, splintered wood raining over them as Cloud flipped her onto her back, driving into her with unforgiving force and riding out the storm she'd awoken.

"Cloud!" Tifa's surprised gasp was followed and drowned by a delicious moan. She tangled her fingers in his rich hair, holding him to her. "Cloud!"

She whispered her love for him into his ear, palms braced against his back as he thrust in and out of her, forcefully moving the mattress, banging the remains of the broken headboard against the wall so hard Tifa was sure there would be a dent come morning.

Cloud rested his forehead on her shoulder, his body curved protectively over hers, his pants increasing in volume and frequency. She completely undid him with her whispers and acceptance. She always accepted him. No matter what.

He gripped her hips, his strong fingers nearly bruising her, holding her steady as the pleasure mounted in them. Control, he realized, was an illusion. He never had it, not really—not when she owned his heart like she did.

Leaning back, he angled his hips, making certain to rub against her in just the _right_ way.

Tifa arched under him, her nails scoring his back. "Cloud! Please! Yes!"

He growled in satisfaction when her legs hitched, curled higher, drew him deeper and her ankles locked together behind his neck and she demanded _more._

_Not yet, not yet_, the mantra throbbed in his head as he held himself shaking above her—_in _her—and watched as she came, shuddering, quaking and crying, before he allowed himself to follow.

"Yes," he growled, feeling her quiver and tighten. "Yes."

"Cloud!" She grasped him closer, pulled tighter. "I'm coming!"

His own orgasm exploded from him with blinding force, his hips pumping in a furious rhythm that he was sure would leave both of them walking funny. "Son of a bitch…" he groaned, holding himself above her on shaking arms.

It took several labored breaths before Cloud pulled himself from the hollow of her body, but he didn't release her. Instead he rolled, pulling her into his arms, so that she was curled against his side.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She nuzzled his side, kissed him gently. "Anytime."

Long, quiet minutes passed, both content to just _be_ with each other. And just as sleep encroached, crowding in on her post-coital high, Tifa thought she heard: "What did you do with the other box?"

* * *

The sentences

**22 Silk**: One dark eyebrow arched and lips twitched as he hastily shook his head and mumbled something about Wutai and stupid ideas and he pocketed the silk ribbons while she made mental note to take them out later.

**08 Unknown**: Breath—stuttered and broken—hissed between clenched teeth and his back arched clear off the bed at the first lick of her tongue against rigid flesh and Cloud desperately wanted to tear the blindfold off so that he could _see_.

**06 Hurricane**: The bedpost snapped like dry tinder, splintered wood raining over them as he flipped her onto her back, driving into her with unforgiving force and riding out the storm she'd awoken.

**13 Lock**: He growled in satisfaction when her legs hitched, curled higher, drew him deeper and her ankles locked together behind his neck and she demanded _more._

**26 Wait**: _Not yet, not yet_, the mantra throbbed in his head as he held himself shaking above her—_in _her—and watched as she came, shuddering, quaking and crying, before he allowed himself to follow.


	21. Chapter 21

She was More

She was pastel pink and prim posture; perfect teeth and coiled ringlets. She was soft skin and a gentle smile. She was the Planet's chosen Daughter and Cloud's perfect Damsel. She was to be grateful.

She wasn't.

She was more than the color she wore. She was more than the flowers she tended. She was more and so much less. She didn't want to be the perfect damsel anymore. She wanted, no—_ached _and _needed—_to be flawed.

Maybe that was why she adored her so. Because she was _so_ flawed with her scarred knuckles and wounded heart. So painfully broken that nothing seemed to soften the edges.

Maybe it was the way ruby flecks never softened on her face, or maybe it was the way she never offered her the larger portion, or maybe it was the way she expected her to fend for herself...

There were a lot of maybes.

But it was _definitely_ the way lips carved her name into sweat damp skin, and the way hands clutched, caressed and held...

It was the silent curve of a back that asked for nothing more than the warm press of breasts, and the acceptance that she wasn't pastel pink and prim posture with perfect teeth and coiled ringlets, and never would be.

* * *

AN: Yes, this is Aerith x Tifa. Sorry if that's not your thing, but this wouldn't leave me alone, lol.


	22. Chapter 22

Small Wonder

Cloud marveled at the small bundle laid in his arms. So tiny and perfect, it was almost impossible to reconcile the fact that he had a part in creating him.

Startlingly familiar blue eyes blinked up at him and Cloud's breath caught. He hadn't seen_ those_ eyes in years, but he knew them. He had seen them light with compassion, chill with reprimand and glow with love. He had been twelve the first time he'd been level with them, and sixteen the last time he'd looked down into them.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Such a tiny wonder...

He lifted his head and found Tifa watching him from her reclined position against the pillows.

"He has my mother's eyes," he whispered.

Her smile was tired and sweet. "I know."


	23. Chapter 23

AN: Written for the lovely Sekiharatae on LJ. Takes place after Dirge of Cerberus.

* * *

I'll Take Care of You

His arrival was heralded by a scurry of activity and awed murmurs of the WRO soldiers in camp as soon as the approaching airship was recognized.

Cloud Strife. Legendary hero.

Savior of the Planet.

Defeater of Sephiroth. (Twice.)

And man on a mission.

His boots hit the ground before the airship was even cleared to land.

A leap from that height would have killed, or at the very least greatly impeded, a normal man, but for Cloud it barely slowed his steps. This prompted even more murmurs and nods from the young recruits, but he either ignored or was oblivious to the commotion he was causing.

Most of the Officers in the area had enough sense to move out of his way as he approached—they'd seen that particular glow in his eyes before—and those that didn't soon learned what it meant when blue chilled until it burned.

Shouldering past the throng of eager cadets that crowded around him, Cloud demanded, "Where is she?" when he spotted Reeve.

"Good to see you too, Cloud," Reeve murmured, turning to face him.

The other man looked a bit haggard in appearance, tired with stained clothes and a dirty face, but otherwise he looked to be in good shape, Cloud observed, and that helped ease his mind somewhat. Although he knew he wouldn't relax until he saw Tifa.

"I'm glad you could make it so quickly. There are several things I need to inform you of—"

"Where is she?" he repeated in a tone that made it clear wasn't thrilled to be asking twice.

Reeve blinked, and then nodded. "Of course. She's in the Medical Tent—"

Figures, Cloud thought, spinning on his heel, dismissing Reeve from his attention. She was always taking care of everyone else. It didn't matter if she was hurt, tired, or just plain sick, Tifa took care of everyone around her. She had a maternal instinct on overdrive, and Cloud suspected it was largely due to the lack of mothering in her own life, but he'd never broach that with her. Some things—even between them--were private.

He managed to make it to the tent without being interrupted—word spread fast when Cloud was in a bad mood-- and he was thankful for that much of his reputation, at least. He shoved past half open canvas flaps and stopped dead in his tracks. Relief made his heart shudder in his chest.

When he and Cid had received word that the WRO had infiltrated an area of unexpected heavy resistance Cloud had to forcibly tell himself to remain calm; they WRO were trained fighters and experts in their fields. They could handle the situation, and Tifa was more than capable of taking care of herself. However, a second radio message from Reeve informing them that base camp itself was under heavy fire had Cloud demanding that Cid turn the Sierra around and to hell with their assignment.

Deep Ground laboratories could wait.

Tifa needed him.

The flight had taken less than an hour, but during that time Cloud managed to envision every nasty, gruesome scenario his imagination could conjure, and he had to admit, he had a terrifyingly vivid imagination.

But there she was.

Seated on a chair not twenty feet from him. Dim light and dark hair obscuring most of her face, but he'd know her anywhere.

Relief turned to irritation a moment later when one of the WRO troops moved to stand, and then crouch, in front of her. Cloud recognized the man as one of Reeve's WRO Elite. Dark hair, green eyes, dimples. Classic good looks and athletic physique, a natural with a gun or a sword—so Reeve proclaimed—and smart, too. SOLDIER material, back in the day. Blade was his name.

_What the hell kind of name was _Blade_ anyway? _

When Blade's hand, sans glove, dared reach up and gently cradled Tifa's cheek, Cloud started forward.

The other man, possibly gifted with a keen sense of self preservation, dropped his hand and rose to his feet the moment he spotted Cloud. But he didn't back away, Cloud noticed, and that drew his brows down and caused his fingers to twitch.

And Tifa still hadn't looked at him.

Eyes narrowed, Cloud didn't so much as grunt to acknowledge the other man, but instead dropped down in front of Tifa—forcing _Blade_ to take a step back or be pushed over. Cloud slid his hands up her arms, reassuring himself with her warmth. Her eyes were closed, dark lashes against pale skin, and mouth slightly parted. Asleep.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his own mouth at how innocent she looked. His relief at finding her unharmed nearly made him lightheaded, but once again that relief was soon blanketed with the thorny bramble of irritation.

This guy was _touching_ Tifa while she was _asleep._ _His _Tifa.

"She's under a sleepel spell," Blade informed him. "Reeve thought it best to let her wake on her own and not force it. I'm inclined to agree. She's exhausted." There was condemnation in his tone.

Cloud glanced over his shoulder to see the younger man leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. It was an arrogantly casual stance, one that was meant to send the message: he wasn't impressed with the great Cloud Strife.

"I can see that," Cloud replied, calm and even, despite the sudden urge to plant his blade _through_ Blade. His fingers drifted up to brush long bangs back from Tifa's forehead. She had a nasty gash there, he realized with a deepening frown, but it looked like it had been cleaned and treated already.

"Bomb took out our vehicles. She took some shrapnel," Blade commented, before Cloud could ask. "She also took on a dozen DGs on her own. She's quite the fighter." Appreciation. Possibly reverence now.

Cloud didn't like that any better.

"We ran into some rogue pockets of resistance that we weren't counting on." Reeve's voice brought Cloud's head around. Flanked by two other officers, both sporting wounds and bandages, Reeve strode down the main aisle towards them. "I have reason to believe that the enemy was waiting for us," he continued.

Cloud leaned back a bit, but kept his fingers curled around Tifa's forearms. "Ambush?"

Reeve nodded. His eyes shifted, moving to rest on Tifa and Cloud got the feeling that there was more coming...and he wasn't going to like it.

The shorter of the two men accompanying Reeve gestured towards the door. "Lieutenant, why don't you take Ms. Lockhart to the Sierra. I'm sure Captain Highwind can get her situated much more comfortably."

Blade nodded, but Cloud didn't budge from his spot in front of Tifa. He knew he should stay and talk to Reeve about the situation at hand, but he wasn't willing to let Tifa out of his sight, and more to the point, he wasn't willing to let anyone else touch her. "I'll take her," he stated.

"It's no problem for the Lieutenant, I assure you," the guard spoke up. "He has been taking care of Ms. Lockhart since the rescue. He hasn't left her side."

If that was meant to make Cloud feel better, it failed. Miserably.

"I just bet," Cloud grumbled under his breath.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking her," Blade added, and Cloud got the distinct impression of taunt and challenge from his tone.

That shit was getting really old.

"Try it," Cloud all but growled, shifting his position so that when he rose it was with Tifa cradled in his arms, his eyes hard as they met mocking green.

"Excuse me, sir?" The guards blinked, clearly confused with the exchange between the two men.

Cloud flicked a glance at Reeve. "Can it wait?"

"Yes."

"Good." Without a backwards glance, Cloud marched out of the tent. "I'll be on the Sierra."

Reeve cleared his throat, coughed to hide his smile. Despite the grim situation the WRO faced at the moment, he wasn't above a little amusement at his friend's expense. After all, it was a rare thing to see Cloud so riled up. "Sure."

* * *

Cid had taken one look at Cloud's face and the limp body in his arms and immediately set about barking orders for his men to get their cabin ready, and the two of them weren't to be disturbed unless Jenova herself was crawling out of the ground, and even then, only if they were losing...

"Thanks," Cloud grunted, passing the older pilot.

Down below, in the cabins, Cloud settled Tifa on the bed. He studied her as she slept, and noticed a small cut on her upper arm, stitched tight, and Cloud knew immediately who had held the needle. He shook his head, ran his hands through his hair, and tried to dislodge the ugly feeling gnawing at him, but it was no use.

The more he thought about it, the more he pictured it, the more it ate at him until he was up on his feet and pacing.

Someone else had been taking care of her.

He was used to seeing Tifa tend others. She'd bandaged many soldiers over the years. Friends and family, strangers and even enemies. That was something he could handle...but it was ihis/i job to protect and take care of her.

He was the one that bathed cuts and soothed tired muscles.

It was his shoulder she leaned on when sleep finally wore her down.

It was his arms that held her up when she stumbled—rare as it was.

It was ihim/i she needed...

Cloud pulled his gloves off with a disgusted grunt. He tossed them and his armor into the chair in the corner. His boots followed as did his overcoat and sweater. He stripped himself to his pants and undershirt before slowly, carefully, removing Tifa's boots and slipping her socks from her feet. He rubbed his thumbs along her arches, like he knew she liked. Even in her sleep she made a small hum of pleasure.

She always responded to him.

Had she responded to Blade?

The thought came without warning and the result was a painful kick to his heart. How could he even think such a thing about her. Of course she hadn't. This was Tifa. Loyal, steadfast, honorable Tifa.

Who was hurt and had needed someone to care for her.

And someone else had done it.

He should be thankful.

So why wasn't he?

He ignored the question and resumed his task of undressing her. Pliant and soft, Tifa made no sounds as he slipped her vest off and then her leather shorts, leaving her in her thin white tank top and cotton panties.

Satisfied, Cloud settled into the bed beside her, curling her into his side. After several minutes of staring at the ceiling, running 'worst-case scenarios' over and over in his head, he managed to fall into a fitful sleep beside her.

He dreamed of Tifa. And Blade.

He dreamed of hurtful words: "I can take care of her." and "I don't need you anymore."

He dreamed of blood and sin. Of death by his hands and lust wrung out in tortured screams.

He dreamed of being lost. Without her...he would be.

* * *

He woke with the remnants of fear and betrayal in his mind and it took him a moment to realize that Tifa was awake beside him. "Hey," she whispered. But the welcome smile on her face wilted and concern edged her brows down even more. "Cloud...are you all right?"

He swallowed, felt it burn his throat. "He took care of you," he said in a voice that was hoarse and strained.

She tilted her head, confusion on her face. "What?"

"That guy. Blade." His name was a sneer. "He took care of you."

Tifa frowned a bit, mulling over his statement, but then her eyes softened and she gave a small smile. "Yeah, I guess he did."

That look, so warm and gentle, was painful for him. Before he could fully comprehend his own actions, Cloud was leaning over her with his hands braced on either side of her face. "That's _my_ job."

"Cloud--!"

Her startled protest was quickly silenced by the hot and hungry heat of his mouth. This was far more than a kiss, she realized; it was an assault.

He tore his mouth away from hers only long enough to rasp her name before he replaced it against the column of her neck, open and slick. His teeth scraped and his hands tugged at her, pushing cloth away from soft, warm skin.

When his teeth grazed against a bruise, she tensed, shifted away. "Cloud...?"

But he was having none of that. With a warning hiss he gripped her hips, drug her closer so that he was pressed between her thighs.

His eyes flashed arctic blue as he watched his own hand trail over pale skin, down a toned stomach and lower. Through her panties he cupped her, pressed and rubbed.

Her eyes went wide; startled.

Ruthlessly, he rubbed and stroked until she was slack mouthed and tumbling over the edge of unexpected release. "Oh, Gods!"

He watched her head thrash, dark hair clinging to her cheeks and while she trembled he slipped her underwear down, unbuttoned his trousers and surged forward. Her fingernails bit into his upper arms and her gasp was one of both pain and surprise.

He reared back, pushed again. Again. Harder.

She was hot and tight and slick and his. HIS damn it.

He must have said it aloud because her eyes widened and then went ruby with understanding and she murmured, "Always have been."

And with her gentle words his hard, demanding thrusts slowed and he bowed his head. Shame replaced anger and he was acutely aware that he had just taken Tifa not out of the love he felt for her, but out of jealousy.

He leaned back, levered himself above her and held her gaze. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, but otherwise remained still. She blinked, still sleep confused, and feeling awkward.

Slowly—achingly slowly—he moved, rocking his hips and sinking into her warmth. With each slow thrust he felt the tension ebbing, and her legs moved restlessly alongside his. "I'll take care of you," he promised, voice husky and deep.

She pressed her palms into his shoulders, raised her hips up off the bed, then back down in a slow slide of heat that had them both gasping. Skilled in most everything, she quickly found her rhythm and with teeth scraping his earlobe she whispered to him, "You always do. You always have."

Cloud groaned. She was hot, soft and wet. She shifted, allowing him better access, drawing her knees up and locking her ankles behind his back. Each movement he made, she countered, and the result was sweet, sweet friction. So good. She felt so damn good.

Trusting, she lifted her face for his kiss, opening for him the moment she felt his tongue caress the seam of her lips. Cloud groaned as he sank into the damp heat of her mouth. Teeth nipped along her mouth, neck, her shoulder and lower. He flicked his tongue over her nipple and she shivered, arching her back to offer him more.

One strong, sure hand slipped between their bodies and Tifa cried out when his fingers touched her, rubbing against swollen skin. Her head fell back as she rode out his ministrations. "Cloud please." She stroked his neck, her palms running flat over his chest, thumbs teasing his nipples.

"Easy," he told her, shuddering as he slipped from the warm hollow of her body.

"Cloud?"

"Shh. I told you, I want to take care of you." He dropped to his knees beside the bed, dragging her thighs farther apart. Her scent mixed with his and the aroma was intoxicating. He closed his eyes and savored it. His. She was his.

With that thought, he laid his mouth against her slick heat.

"Cloud!" His name came out broken, caught up in a cry of pleasure. He growled again, the vibration sending heat spiraling through her and causing liquid to pool against his seeking tongue. He licked her mercilessly, not content with her simply writhing against him. He wanted to hear her screaming his name, feel her shuddering in ecstasy.

Tifa caught the spikes of his hair in her fists. "Cloud-I…oh, Gods, I can't..."

"Yes, you can." He added his fingers, thrusting two deep as his teeth found and teased her most sensitive nub. She became mindless then, thrusting herself against his mouth, riding his fingers until they were coated with the evidence of her release and his head hurt from the mad clenching of her fingers in his hair.

Cloud felt a surge of primitive satisfaction when she collapsed on his name. Carefully, he adjusted her on the bed, keeping her legs spread wide. "You're so beautiful," he rasped. He rubbed the broad head of his erection against her saturated skin, earning yet another fractured cry of want from her. He pressed forward, a strangled sound escaping from his own throat.

Tifa clawed his back, her hips driving upwards, seeking, even as she continued to tremble with the aftershocks of her first orgasm. "I can't…I need…"

Cloud gripped her hips, holding her to him. "I know."

"Please."

He withdrew slightly, then, with one savage grunt and hard surge, he filled her.

He was hard, demanding, spreading her legs wide so he could see himself thrusting in and out of her tightness. He pressed her hard, stimulating her clit with his thumb as he took her.

Tifa's eyes flashed ruby red.

"Are you all right?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"Yes." Her hips lifted. "Don't stop."

Cloud grinned at her, white teeth flashing in a look that was both smug and relieved.

"I love you," she panted when he complied, increasing their tempo.

Cloud's muscles knotted and tensed, body teetering on the brink of orgasm. "Come with me, Tifa." His thumb circled faster and faster, hips pumping furiously. "Come for me."

Her body reacted instantly to his soft command, her inner muscles contracting hard and squeezing him. They thrashed together, hoarse grunts and long moans overpowering the slap of skin on skin. Cloud thought maybe he shouted her name as he lost himself in hot, jetting spurts, but he couldn't be sure.

Head buried in long hair against the pillow, it took him a full minute to catch his breath. Lifting his head, Cloud placed a gentle kiss against her temple. "Teef, you with me?"

She nodded, too far gone to speak. He could feel her tremble for him and his lips curved up in satisfaction. There were some aches that no one else was ever going to take care of.

Tifa turned and caught his face between her hands, kissing him. Soft and slow, and achingly sensual, she showed him in that one kiss all the passion their love making had, and all the longing she'd felt while they were apart.

"You're back early," she commented when breathing had returned to normal.

"Got word that you couldn't stay out of trouble," he teased, but there was genuine concern in his electric hues.

"Maybe you're just a bad influence," she murmured, yawning.

"Maybe."

There was a long silence and then she rolled into him, nestled her head into its familiar place beneath his chin. "Thank you."

"For?"

"Coming back for me."

He swallowed, tightened his arms around her. "Always, Tifa."

* * *

A knock on the cabin door a few hours later prompted Cloud to slip the sheets over her before peering through the peek-hole.

Reeve.

Alone; thank Ifrit.

Cloud opened the door.

"Got a minute?" Reeve asked.

Cloud stepped outside, and waited for Reeve to speak. When he didn't, Cloud sighed. "Just tell me whatever it is you don't want to tell me."

Reeve's lips twisted, part smile, part grimace. "I contemplated sending Cait to do this, you know?"

No, Cloud didn't know. Or care. He just wanted information. "What happened?"

"Ambush, like you said." Reeve shifted, glanced back at the cabin.

A tendril of unease coiled in Cloud's gut. "What else?"

"They were targeting Tifa, Cloud."

Ice crawled along his veins. "...Targeting?"

Reeve nodded. "We had exposed flanks, vulnerable weapons, and we weren't expecting to encounter that much firepower, but they didn't go after any of it. The attack was concentrated on Tifa's convoy."

Cloud's muscles tensed. "And you don't think it's coincidence."

It was a statement, but Reeve responded anyway. "No." He shuffled his weight, leaned against the railing. "And I don't think they were trying to kill her."

The coil in his gut tightened. "Your thinking they wanted to capture her?"

Reeve nodded. "She was taken down. It took almost two dozen of them, but they managed to get her down, and instead of killing her, they cast Sleepel? Doesn't make any sense. Don't get me wrong, I'm thanking the Gods that she wasn't killed, but they had the chance. Why not take it? Unless they don't want her dead." Reeve gave Cloud a sidelong look. "If it hadn't been for Blade, we wouldn't have gotten her out."

Cloud flinched but remained silent.

"My first thought was that they wanted to use her as bait to get to you."

"But not anymore?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you're here, and they haven't made another attack." Reeve turned to face him. "If anything, I think your arrival wasn't expected. Any other airship would have taken twice as long to get here."

"So, what you're telling me is that Tifa is the target."

"I believe so, yes." Reeve nodded.

Cloud stepped to the railing, looked down over the base camp.

"I'll get my best Elite soldiers to watch her back—"

Cloud shook his head. "Don't bother."

Reeve swung him a startled look. "What?"

Blue eyes burned in the shadows. "I'll be with her."

"But, what about the laboratories?"

"We'll figure something else out. I won't leave her, Reeve." Cloud turned away from the other man, and with his hand on the doorknob said, "She's mine to take care of."

Reeve nodded, understanding the silent threat. "I'll make sure my men get the message."

"See that they do."

Back in the cabin, Cloud slipped beneath the sheets and pulled Tifa into his arms. Nothing and no one was taking her from him. He'd make damn sure of that.


	24. Chapter 24

AN: Written for the "Are you Game?" community on Insane Journal

Like the previous chapter, this could lead to a longer story, and it just may.

Hope you like it!!! :)

* * *

Shadows and Lace

He was hungry.

That was his first thought upon waking.

His second was that he was a monster.

A killer.

It wasn't always that way. He could remember a time when he wasn't. In that fraction of a second, that split moment between sleep and wake, he could lie to himself and attempt to deny what he had become. But eventually even that momentary falsehood faded and he was left with only the cold, harsh truth of what he was—and of what he would never be.

With a resigned sigh, he opened his eyes and lifted himself from his bed. The temperature in his chamber was bitterly cold, matching his mood. Crystals of ice floated in the air around him like a shimmering halo and his mouth twisted into a sardonic smile at that thought. Halos were for angels, and he was as far from angelic as one could get.

Leisurely he slipped into a pair of black pants and secured them at his hips with a slide of his custom belt. He tightened the soft leather straps crisscrossed against his black a swirl of shadow he slipped his trench coat over broad shoulders and opened the doors to his third floor balcony.

His home, if one could call it that, was a very old Shin-Ra asylum, abandoned when the patients—all failed SOLDIERS, insane with Mako poisoning—rioted and killed nearly all the staff and each other. Most people steered well clear of the property due to the rampant ghost stories surrounding the building, and that suited his needs for seclusion just fine.

Resting his hands on the balcony rail, he leaned forward to inhale the night air. Cool, crisp, and clean, it smelled of the woodland. There was something about the scent that drug forward fragments of memories best left buried: Starry sky, promises, dark eyes and lilting laughter.

Nibleheim.

It had been over ten years since he had last laid eyes on his hometown and yet he recalled it with exquisite detail. His lips curved up and his tongue played with the tip of one tooth as he remembered with a near savage anger the way the townspeople had treated him.

He had wanted to belong and they had shunned him. They had called him weak.

If only they could see him now, he thought, fingers tightening and curling the metal rail.

The fact remained that there was nothing that would change what had happened or what now was, but that didn't mean he couldn't have himself a little revenge with his dinner... With that in mind he leaped onto the rail and flung himself into the night in a flurry of sable feathers.

Nibleheim had cast him aside, and in doing so had made him its enemy.

It was time to pay _home _a visit.

* * *

The village was as he remembered it to be, almost down to the individual cobblestones on the sidewalk. His eyes, glowing faintly blue in the dark, strayed to the well in the center of town and if he had a pulse, it would have leaped at the sight that greeted him.

It was _her._

Tifa. Her name was sweet in his mind, but he dared not taste it on his tongue.

She was still there?

He had expected her to be long gone from this place and to see her sitting there, on the well...on _their_ well, surprised him—to say the least.

Had she ever left? What was she doing out in the damp cold after midnight? Was she married?

The last question irked something in him, and he shifted, more shadow than man, to slide across the rooftops and get a better view of her.

A soft sigh of sound escaped her as she tilted her face up into the moonlight, and he froze.

She was beautiful.

He had known she would be...but to see it...

Her skin was pale with a dusting of pink on her cheeks and nose from the chill, her lips wide and full, her hair dark and long, but it was her eyes that captivated him. Crimson. The color of blood.

He felt his teeth against his bottom lip and tried to fight down his rising hunger.

At the well, Tifa straightened, her blood colored eyes darting up into the shadows and he wondered if she could sense the danger she was in.

A cold breeze ruffled her hair—winter always came fast in the mountains—and she tightened her fingers on the shawl around her shoulders and tugged at the skirt flapping around her calves. Her outfit wasn't meant to ward off chills, and soon she gave the moon one last longing look, before climbing to her feet. She closed her eyes, and sighed again. The sound was melancholy and lonely.

In the shadows he straightened. Why was she so sad?

She didn't bother with the ladder, but instead surprised him by vaulting from her perch to land delicately on the balls of her bare feet. Adjusting her shawl she gave the shadows one more searching look before shaking her head and walking the cobbled path to her house.

The same one she had grown up in.

He wondered if her grump of a father still lived there as well. He began trailing after her almost unconsciously, and he stopped with a quiet curse. Just like when he was a child, he thought with an angry snarl. Always trailing after her.

He wasn't that enamored boy anymore.

He was a man, if not a monster of one, but a man all the same, and he wasn't going to follow her around like some lovesick puppy.

Even as he thought it , his shadowed form slipped across her roof until he stood outside the glass of her bedroom window.

Inside, she sat on the edge of her bed, comb sifting through sable strands as she hummed to herself, eyes closed, face utterly content.

Had he breath, it would have steamed the pane, he was so close. Hand pressed to sleek glass, reaching but not touching...

"Tifa..."

The comb dropped from her fingers and, eyes wide, she whirled towards the window.

She couldn't see him, he knew—blended as he was in shadows and mist—but it still startled him to have her approaching, and even more shocking was when she placed her palm to the pane, directly across from his and whispered, _"Cloud."_

Gods, it had been so long since he'd heard his name—he'd almost forgotten. And to hear it on her lips, so soft...so aching...?

Why was she thinking of him?

Surely she should have forgotten him... But clearly not.

Her eyes turned up a bit at the corners as her mouth lifted in a wistful half smile. She gave a small shake of her head and stepped away from the window, hair falling to veil her face from his view and Cloud wanted to reach through the barrier separating them and brush it back.

His attention shifted a moment later when Tifa's hands crossed against her torso and she began to shimmy out of her dress.

Any respectable person would look away.

Good thing he wasn't either of those things.

Beneath the pale blue of her dress she wore simple lace panties and no bra. Her breasts, full and round, were topped with tight, dusky peaks, still hard from the cool air of the outside, and Cloud felt his pants tighten against his groin.

How many nights had he lain in bed as a teenager and fantasized over those curves. How many times had he clasped his own flesh in hand and imagined it was her he was buried in...

In the bedroom Tifa leaned across the nightstand and clicked off the lamp before crawling beneath the blankets and curling her arm around the pillow in the vacant spot beside her.

So...she wasn't with anyone...

No ring on her finger meant no marriage, and looking around the bedroom, Cloud couldn't spot a single male possession.

He smiled, fangs glimmering in the moonlight.

Not that another man would have stopped him, he realized, shifting form again. He crouched on the roof, watching the even rise and fall of her chest beneath the counterpane.

Murmuring a soft enchantment, Cloud reached for the window only to swear a moment later when the wood groaned but didn't budge. A soft thrum of power around him told him that the house was encased in a barrier.

Odd...but not impenetrable.

Smirking, he closed his eyes and focused. He'd never really played with the psychic powers Hojo had sworn to help him perfect if he let him live—an offer that he still had no regrets in not taking, but he knew he possessed them.

He'd used them on occasion to influence people into going down dark corridors or into the woods when they normally wouldn't, but he'd never tried to insert himself—or his consciousness, at least—into anyone else's thoughts.

After a few long minutes of concentrating, he felt the air around him still and every sound was magnified until he could hear the pulse of blood beneath her skin.

"_Call for me, Tifa..."_

Beneath her covers, Tifa rolled to her side, let out a quiet moan. "Cloud."

And as she said it, he felt it...against his lips, as though he was in the room with her. Above her.

"_I'm here,"_ he whispered to her, picturing his mouth on her ear.

"How?" Even asleep she was astute enough to know his presence wasn't something ordinarily experienced.

"_You asked for me," _he answered simply, imagining the covers slipping down her body, revealing smooth skin and still roused nipples.

In the bed, Tifa moaned, hands moving to cup her breasts.

On the roof, Cloud sighed, unzipping his pants.

"I've asked for you before," she whispered.

That was...unexpected. And for a moment his concentration wavered.

She moved restlessly, her legs pushing at the blankets."Cloud?"

He narrowed his thoughts onto the warmth of her skin, imagined his hands trailing against the hum of heat. _"Tell me what you've wanted of me,"_ he instructed, lowering his mouth to hers.

She sighed as his mouth took hers. His tongue slid along the seam of her lips, teasing, licking, tasting. He made certain that each stroke of his tongue sent a fiery throb straight through her body to pool in her abdomen.

Her mouth was like silk beneath his, he thought, his gut clenching as desire tightened every muscle in his body. Better than his youthful fantasies had ever been.

While her tongue dueled with his, her hands ran over the hard planes of his chest, over his neck, before sinking into the thick richness of his hair.

Cloud groaned, his mouth leaving hers so that he could nibble against the tilt of her jaw. _"Is this what you want?"_ he rasped, nipping.

"Yes," she murmured dreamily. Her head fell back, allowing him unfettered access. She trembled when he licked her pulse. "But you never came back for me," she whispered, "not ever."

Pain. It was in her voice...and betrayal? He couldn't understand that, and when her mouth moved, open and moist to his ear, he didn't bother to try. _"I'm here now,"_ he said, palms cupping her full breasts, thumbs teasing her erect nipples.

"Are you?" She moaned, arched into his touch. "Feels like...dreaming..."

He bent his head, flicking his tongue over her breast, suckling one taut peak into his moist mouth. _"Then dream of me, Tifa. Dream all the things you want me to do."_ He pushed a bit, into her mind, asserting himself.

"Cloud…" his name was a breathless gasp. Her hands wandered his hard frame, searing a path of heat across his skin, making him feel flushed and hard and wanting. She caressed his shoulders, moved down his back, over each defined muscle, exploring the firm roundness of his buttocks, kneading them, pulling him closer. She moved her mouth over his shoulder, down across the flat of his nipple, flicking quickly, making him jerk and groan.

She surprised him when she slipped from between the brace of his arms and her hand closed around hard flesh. With surprising strength, she flipped them, so she was on top. Her breath teased the head of his cock and Cloud damn near lost his mind and the link.

On the roof, he shuddered, pulsed and ached.

In her bed, Tifa slid her hand across her stomach and over lace.

_"Tifa…"_ he didn't know how he managed to get her name past his tight throat.

"Shhh," she chided, her mouth curved in a faint teasing line. Her tongue lapped at the salty beads of moisture forming at the tip of his cock.

Cloud jumped, his entire body locked in an arc of pleasure. "Fucking hell," he swore, trying not to lose their connection.

Smiling at his reaction, she slowly took him deep into her mouth, sucking gently.

Cloud's hands fisted in her hair, his hips moving in time to her suctioning. He was losing control, thrusting helplessly into the silken cavern of heat and moisture. Her lips tightened, tongue swirled, pulling him deeper under her sensual spell.

He stiffened, trying to get away, to once more gain control, but she held fast, teeth scraping in reprimand. She teased him with her mouth, sucking harder.

"_Enough, Tifa." _He lifted her, rolled her beneath him and tugged her leg up over his hip. His hand moved between their bodies, cupping her damp center, two fingers slipping past her slick folds.

She moaned, her hips rocking against his wrist. "Cloud." She rode his hand, eyes closed and his name spilling from her lips every time his thumb circled her clit.

_"Come for me, Tifa," _he urged, sending a psychic push for her to obey as he curved his digits to hit her just right.

"Not yet," she rasped, her hips grinding his arm. "I want you inside. Now."

Cloud didn't wait another second, shifting himself so that he was wedged more firmly against her. He pressed her back into the pillows as he pushed into her, the head of his erection throbbing as her slick heat welcomed him home. _"Tight," _he growled. _"So tight."_

Tifa gave a soft cry, spreading her legs and drawing her knees up for him to cradle. He pushed deeper and she bit her lip.

This was primal Cloud thought, gasping and grunting with each thrust. And so beautiful. The way she touched him, like he was something worthy of her attention. Someone worthy of her…No, don't go there. Stay here, where it's simple. Where the only thing that mattered was the friction between their bodies, and the tension mounting and that coil of pleasure tightening in his stomach.

He was driving harder, his hands on her hips, her legs locked around his waist as he moved faster. Tifa gasped, clinging to his shoulders, her cries of ecstasy shadowed by his growls.

Cloud lifted his head, capturing her face between his hands, slowing the chaotic slamming of their bodies to a slow rocking. _"You're perfect,"_ he said, and meant it. _"You've always been perfect."_

Circling his head in her arms Tifa hid her tears in his hair. _I love you._

Cloud couldn't say which one of them had that thought. It melted between them, soaking him and her in warmth and pleasure.

"Don't let me wake up," she breathed into his neck. "I've waited so long..."

Cloud sensed her sadness and he wished he could take it away from her. Confusion over her words wrestled against the pleasure building in his body. The pleasure won and soon he was gripping her hips in his hands, pulsing deep and hard.

Tifa writhed against the pillows, her head thrown back as he took her. He seared her mouth with his, swallowing her scream of pleasure as she shattered in his arms, her orgasm milking one from him. Too soon, he thought regretfully as he bucked, pumping furiously, unable to stop.

When it was over, he struggled to maintain their link long enough for him to rock his hips in a slow rhythm, his eyes going dark and unreadable.

"You're leaving now, aren't you?" she asked, hands cupping his face so that he couldn't look away from her.

"_I have to." _Why was it so hard to say? Why did she even care? He hadn't laid eyes on her in over a decade. He was a monster and the foolish dreams she threatened to stir to life in him were dangerous.

"Are you dead?" she whispered, searching his gaze.

How to answer that? he thought with a twist of his lips. The truth was best. _"Yes."_

She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, tears slipping over her cheeks. "Gods, I wanted to be wrong..." She brushed his bangs back from his forehead, her smile sad. "Maybe I'll dream of you again...?"

He blinked, her reaction surprising him. Was she asking him to return? Did she...know...? Cloud shook himself. She couldn't know. No one knew the horrific experiments done by Shin-Ra. They kept them carefully guarded and hidden from the world. Even when the experiments went a little insane and slaughtered a few dozen employees...

"_Maybe,"_ he finally answered. He kissed her softly, and the sharp bite of hunger in him reminded him that he had yet to feed. _"Sleep now," _he murmured, and in it laced a command.

Obediently, she closed her eyes and Cloud felt the connection sever.

Outside, leaves brushing against his boots, Cloud snapped back to reality. He gave the moisture in the palm of his hand a long look before wiping it on his pants and rising to his feet. If it had been that intense with Tifa in their minds...he could only imagine how good it would feel for real.

He stepped to the window and placed his palm to the glass once more. In the bed, Tifa didn't stir.

He'd be back. As much as he tried to deny it, he knew he'd be back.

She was far too tempting to resist.

But for now hunger was gnawing at him and he could feel the press of sunrise. There were other villagers in Nibleheim that were due for a visit. Only theirs would be far less pleasurable.

"_Sleep well."_ With more reluctance than he cared to admit, Cloud took off into the night.

* * *

Well past dawn, with sunlight streaming in her bedroom, Tifa sat up in her bed. She placed a hand to her heart and frowned. It still pulsed and beat steadily beneath her palm. Walking to the window she stared out into the morning she searched along the trees.

"I know you were here. I can feel it." Moving to her dresser, she picked up the gently glowing orb of materia and deactivated it. She saw the barrier around her house shimmer and then vanish. "And when you come again, I'll be waiting."

She was in the kitchen, preparing her breakfast when the screaming started.


	25. Chapter 25

AN: Done for LiveJournal's Springkink community.

* * *

FOUND

They reached for him in the eternal midnight of his mind; tendrils of shadow and horror that filtered through defense and pretense to slither deep and coil tight. Cold, they twined around him until voice and breath both failed, and he was unable to break their desperate tether and he alternately prayed for salvation and death.

A number.

A name.

A purpose.

_Give me something..._

The tendrils suctioned memory and heart, leaving him a shaking hollow husk, too shattered to cry out...too frightened of the reply.

It was then that she found him, dank and dirty, smelling of urine and vomit--his own?--in that train station and she pulled him from the dark with soft words and sturdy hands. With care and precision, she severed the tendrils locking him stagnant, and finally..._finally _he could move.

He had a name...

"Cloud?"

He had a purpose...

"Hello, Tifa."

He no longer needed a number.


	26. Chapter 26

**NO ONE ELSE**

Prompt: Final Fantasy VII, Cloud/Tifa, Exclusivity, "I'm a greedy little bastard"  
Note: In-Game Cloud is such a dick. :P

* * *

"You know, for a Turk, that Rude guy ain't half bad." Booted feet placed on the tree stump in front of her, Yuffie extended her arms over her head, made a show of stretching the kinks out. "Something kinda dark and mysterious about him, with those sunglasses and bald head. It's sexy." She tilted her head, eying Tifa. "And he has the hots for you."

Across from her, Tifa's small sound was noncommittal.

"I can't believe we overheard that. So epic! And then, in the fight, he wouldn't even touch you! It's killer. We should send you to face the Turks every time. The redhead is a moron and baldy won't lay a finger on you, 'cause he_looooooves _you."

Behind them, firewood hit the dirt.

Yuffie tossed a quick look over her shoulder, smirked, and turned back to Tifa. "I have this thing for mysterious guys, y'know. Something so hot about them."

Doing her best to block out Yuffie's rambling, Tifa continued to fold and stow her gear into her satchel, careful to make sure she left the potions out to be put on top and the antidotes in the front pocket. Her spare gloves were also tucked in the front, and she needed to make room for her rations.

"Just think about it," Yuffie continued, despite Tifa's lack of participation. "It would be like some illicit love affair. Forbidden desires and all that. I can just imagine secret interludes and passionate, desperate embraces." She gave a breathy sigh. "Two hearts, separated by cruel, cruel fate."

"That's enough, brat," Barret grumbled, slamming his pack on the ground. "Yo, Cloud, easy on that ax. It's the only one we've got."

"What?" Yuffie was the picture of wide-eyed innocence. "It's not like she's _with_ anyone, right? Tifa's hot, and she should flaunt that shit. Heck, if the guys here are too stupid to do anything about it, it's obvious the Turks aren't."

Flustered, Tifa remained silent, continued to pack. She was used to Yuffie carrying on about something or other, it was a pretty routine occurrence and had been ever since the young girl had joined them, but this time it was about her, and the current topic made her...conscious...of certain things.

Like how Cloud hadn't reacted to Rude's comments. At all.

In fact, Cloud hadn't even acknowledged her after their run-in, instead, walking ahead to keep a steadying hand on Aerith, and that alone was enough to remind Tifa that he hadn't touched her—not once—since the flower girl had joined them. And those heavy, heated glances he'd given her all those weeks ago had all but disappeared, and she felt that maybe—in his mind—she had too.

Not that there was anything certain or guaranteed between them, she mused, tucking socks into her bag, but Tifa had thought that maybe, after the nights he'd spent in her bed at Seventh—both of them panting, clinging, and sated—that there was, at least, _something_ there. But now, she felt uncertain, unsure, and completely inadequate.

Female pride was a fragile thing, she'd come to realize, and although she'd never considered herself beautiful, she hadn't been overtly aware of anything about herself that was _lacking_ either...until recently.

But when compared to unmarred porcelain skin and perfectly coiled ringlets, her scarred surface and drab locks left a lot to be desired. In contrast to light green eyes that twinkled with flirty mischief, her own were the murky brown of bloodstained mud. She did not have slim hips that swayed gently beneath pastel pink cotton; no, hers were braced tight beneath battle scuffed leather. And where Aerith had gentle curves that hinted at femininity and secrets, Tifa's body was a proclamation of it, shouting out 'boobs!' to all of sundry.

She'd tried, honestly, not to tick off the comparisons, but it was no use. Every time sky blue locked on emerald green, she felt the cold knot of jealousy tighten in her gut, sending self-conscious fears skittering through her brain. The worst part was that she liked Aerith, she really did, and the other woman was good for Cloud.

Tifa had seem him smile--_smile_--around Aerith, and that made her take a step back...re-evaluate what was most important to her. And the answer—the same as she expected—had been Cloud's happiness. So she removed herself s much as she could from their space and tried not to linger on the 'maybes'.

But some part of her, some foolish, lost-in-that-promise, part of her had hoped that Cloud would balk. That he would_want_ her around him. But he had taken her distance without so much as a blink of those electric blues.

And for the past few days, after fighting battle after battle, Tifa had started feeling more and more like a weathered toad, so she had to admit, hearing Rude—in that embarrassed, awkward way—admit he had a thing for her. Well, it felt good. It felt damn good.

"You can stop all your blah-blahing over it, because Tifa ain't getting mixed up with no Turk!" Barret's voice drew her sharply from her thoughts.

"Well, duh!" Yuffie shouted right back. "But what if he wasn't a Turk, huh? Cloud used to be a SOLDIER, and he's one of us. So what if he wasn't a Turk, what then, Tifa?" Yuffie's wide eyes were on her now. "Then maybe, right?"

Someone who admired her? Wanted to be with her? "Yeah," she replied slowly, voice quiet. "Maybe." She pulled the drawstring of her bag tight—probably tighter than it needed to be—and gave the rough canvas a pat. "All set. I'm gonna take patrol." She ignored Barret's dumfounded expression and Yuffie's triumphant look and grabbed her gloves. The prickling along her skin made her all too aware of the cold fire that now followed her, but she chose to ignore that too.

On the outskirts of the clearing, Tifa thought she heard more shouting and Barret cussing. "Damn it, Cloud! I told you it was the only one we had..." But she didn't stop, just kept walking, wondering what it would feel like to have the person you wanted want you back.

Four hours was the limit for patrols. She knew that, but it didn't hasten her steps back any faster, even after six. She had her PHS, and they knew she wouldn't go far, so she was considerably surprised to see Cloud—dark scowl etched like stone on his handsome face—standing with his back braced against the base of a large tree as she approached.

She glanced at her hip. No missed calls. So, no 'team' related issues. She killed the little flutter of hope in her chest that he might be waiting for her ruthlessly. He couldn't possibly have known which direction she'd return to camp from, so chances were he wanted to be by himself.

He had a penchant for doing that—wandering off and staring into space, a plethora of emotions swirling behind blue and Mako—so instead of angling her direction his way, she kept straight, intent on giving him his space.

"You wouldn't." Soft, his voice was edged with hostility, and that startled her into pausing.

"Excuse me?" Half turned, over her shoulder, she tried to hide behind the fall of her hair.

He pushed himself away from the tree, his strides long—purposeful. "You wouldn't be with _him_." His hands, startlingly bare bracketed her arms, held her firm. "Under any circumstance. Ever." Low, the words fairly thrummed with command.

Confusion only lasted a fraction of a second, and she quickly shook her head. "Of course not, Cloud. The Turks are our enemies, and nothing will change that—"

"Or anyone else," he growled, cutting her off, his eyes burning like blue fire in the shadows. Her blank look seemed to piss him off and between one breath and the next he had her shoved back against rough bark, his mouth fastened to hers.

Blood singing through her system and pounding in her head, Tifa could only clutch helplessly at his forearms and struggle between breathless passion and infuriating confusion. What the hell...?

Demanding, his body pressed into hers and his tongue slipped past teeth to stroke and plunder.

This wasn't a kiss, her muddled brain acknowledged. This wasn't seduction. This was something darker, and she was trying—and failing—to keep her wits about her. "Cloud," she tore her mouth away, breaths harsh in the chilling air. "What...what the hell are you doing?"

His lips, those sinful lips that she'd fantasized about a hundred times, curved up at one corner, eyes swirling in a vast array of heat and sky. "I thought that'd be pretty obvious."

When she simply stared, he rubbed—thick and hard—against her thigh. "I'm a greedy little bastard and I don't share. I'm taking what's mine."

"Wha—Oh!" Tifa was unprepared for him to spin her, pressing her abruptly forward, palms flat to the tree. The craggy surface abraded her skin and that unexpected insensitivity confused her further still.

She barely had time to catch her breath before she felt his hands beneath the hem of her skirt, shoving the leather up to bunch at her waist. Impatient fingers slid beneath the elastic of her panties, tugged the material aside. His other hand braced on the small of her back, held her still as he unfastened his belt and dropped his pants. He slid into her in one powerful thrust, the word:"Mine" rasped into the shell of her ear.

And she knew then, what this was. This was dominance. This was claim.

But it went both ways.

Using her strength, she shoved away from the tree, effectively throwing Cloud off balance and stuttering his rhythm.

"Not like that," she hissed, turning on him. "You want me?"

His teeth bared in a cocky smile and he bent his head so his mouth played against hers when he answered. "Again, I thought that was pretty obvious."

Oh, how she wanted him... "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want me? Because someone else does?" She held up her bleeding palms for his inspection. "Is that reason enough to _take_? To _hurt_ me?"

Cloud frowned and the glowing green in his eyes diminished a bit and the cornflower blues of Nibleheim youth blinked at her. "I...hurt you?"

It was moments like these, when he was two people before her, that Tifa felt completely at a loss. But of the two, she knew which one she wanted to make love to her, and it wasn't the one willing to take her from behind, shoved against a tree, so she whispered back, "Yes."

He moved to step back, but she caught his hand, and holding his eyes, she lowered it, pressed it between her thighs and against slick heat. "I want you," she told him. "I crave you." She widened her stance, pressed his finger inside, gasped when he took the hint and pressed two deep. "But I won't give myself to you just because you're jealous. I can't be...I can't be some afterthought or second choice. A spare plaything... If that's all it is..." she had to take a breath, his motions already soaking his hand. "Then you can stop, and we'll be done."

"Done?" he echoed, eyes fastened to where his fingers fucked her.

"Done." The urge to arch into his hand was overwhelming, but she fought it back. Not until he understood, that yes, he may be a greedy bastard, but she wasn't for the 'taking' on his whim. He had to give as well.

He lifted his gaze to hers. "We'll never be done," he rumbled. "There's no other choice. Only you."

She wanted to ask, about Aerith, but his eyes were so blue, and that was all the answer she needed.

"Then, Cloud, I suggest you remove your hand, and give me something a bit more substantial."

His chuckle was wicked.

He didn't take her up against the tree, but instead lowered her to the ground, softened by moss and leaves. He took his time, using his hands and mouth to skim and touch every inch of her. Her clothes weren't shoved aside, but removed in teasing, passionate layers until she was completely bare and shaking with the aftershocks of two orgasms.

"Cloud," she pleaded, feeling empty. "Now."

"Not yet," he grinned, trailing slick heat and torment along her navel and lower. "I want to feel you come against my lips."

The words—decadently naughty, and cheek inflaming—served to ignite some hidden fire in her. Tifa closed her eyes against the scalding sting of tears as pleasure thrummed to life beneath skillful mouth and hard, deep penetration of his fingers.

When she shattered a third time, he crawled up her body, sinking into quivering heat with a low groan. His breath was hot against the side of her neck as he shoveled her hair aside, his teeth sharp. "Gods, Tifa..." he groaned, pumping faster. "No one else," he rasped. "No one else."

And she wasn't sure if that was command or declaration.

But when he hauled her close and ground out his release and her name, she decided that she didn't much care.

Because either way, it was the truth.

No one else


	27. Chapter 27

**"Sleep Well?"**

Cloud couldn't recall exactly what time they'd managed to crawl into bed after another night of fruitless raids against Shin-Ra, but it had been late—or early, depending on your definition—and the muted gray of morning was unwelcome, and singularly unavoidable. He grudgingly blinked his eyes open, the cracked and flaked ceiling above him a familiar sight.

He supposed, if he really wanted, he could paint it. But he hadn't yet, and wouldn't. This was not his home. This was a place to sleep while he completed his jobs. So long as he was getting paid, he would do what they asked of him, and only that. It was an uncomplicated existence...or it should have been, he thought, rolling onto his side.

The movement caused the warm body beside him to stir, and, features softening, he tilted his head to watch her. And there would be the complication.

Tifa Lockhart.

Childhood..._friend. _

The foggy shroud over his memory still hadn't lifted completely—for whatever reason—but he remembered Tifa. And she him.

He recalled her finding him at the train station—him half out of his mind from wounds and illness—and her on the run from Shin-Ra troopers. It had only taken a split second recognition on her part for her to risk capture and haul his ass along with her to Sector Seven. Much to the fury of her team leader.

Cloud smirked at that memory. It was enjoyable, getting under Barret's skin and watching the big man bluster. And even more amusing was the way he gave in to Tifa. It was damn hard _not_ to give in to Tifa, though, and Cloud didn't entirely fault the other man there.

Tifa was warm, and steady, and strong, and, well...Tifa.

It was a bit alarming how it felt for him to be around her. How much _better_ he was when he was near her. The static in his head lessened and the pain—that tight, constricting, _Ican'tbreathepleasehelpme_ pain—was gone.

So, when she approached him with working as a mercenary for AVALANCHE he had agreed. Not for the moral reasons she ticked off to him like some rehearsed speech, but because the idea of being away from her was uncomfortable. Disturbingly uncomfortable.

Given the small confines of their living space, and the bedrooms already taken to bursting, it had also seemed only natural to Cloud that he would share her room. He had stated as much, like fact. It made sense to him. He needed to be near her—because crawling beneath his skin was something only she could silence—and in the back of his brain there was the irrefutable _need_ to protect her. To keep her safe.

That had been three months ago. And the small cot he'd started in was now propped against the closet, and Tifa was curled against his side.

Smiling, he brushed some of the longer strands of her hair back from her face. She gave a little sigh and wiggled closer, managing to wedge one of her legs between his. She wore faded sweatpants and an old T-shirt—which shouldn't have been the least bit sexy—but somehow were. She did that with everything, he thought, sliding one hand beneath the shirt and over sleep warm skin. She made everything better.

Watching her face, he cupped her breast, stroked lazy circles with his thumb. Gentle, playful, he teased her nipple until it pebbled against his palm and she sighed in her sleep. Bending his head, Cloud took the peak into his mouth, suckled lightly through cotton.

She squirmed against him and his lips curved up.

He left the alluring softness of her breast to trail his hand down, over her abdomen, beneath the elastic of her sweats, and down to trace against softer, hidden flesh.

In her sleep, she sighed his name.

She was damp, but not ready, so he stroked with patient, attentive fingers. Playing over the folds before dipping lower to slick wet heat along her seam. He adjusted his wrist, slid a finger—then two—deep while his thumb found and rubbed her clit in hard, quick circles.

She came awake with a shudder and a sharp cry of his name, and he chuckled, lowering his mouth to seduce hers. "Hush," he teased, "you'll wake Barret."

Coherence and recognition were slow coming to her pleasure hazed brain, but when it did, all she could think to say was: "Sleep well?" in a voice that hitched on the edge of completion.

He tugged down her pants, parted the fold in his boxers, and slid deep in one smooth glide. "Next to you, who wouldn't?" he rasped against her throat.

"Shiva!" Her fingers scrambled against his back as she tried to catch up to her own body.

"Easy," he murmured, setting a slow, deep pace. He brushed light kisses against her parted mouth. "Just feel."

Like she could do anything else, she thought, gasping his name again when he withdrew, only to surge back in deeper and harder than before. She stroked the line of his back, left fingernail crescents on his hip and cried out when he rocked and pumped and pleasured her in ways she'd never even _dreamed_ of.

Arched against the worn mattress she took him in greedy answering undulations. In this act there were no questions, no niggling doubts or uncertainties. In this she knew he was Cloud and he was _with_ her. There was no faraway lost look in eyes rimmed green. There was no cocky swagger that didn't fit quite right. No, in this there was only them.

Cloud and Tifa.

Only them.

And it was beautiful


	28. Chapter 28

**SAY MY NAME**

Boisterous patrons and cloying perfumes were wreaking havoc on his head. Loud conversations and slurred laughter were blending into something akin to screams and screeches. The bar was unusually crowded tonight—the people of Sector Seven celebrating some new renovations, courtesy of an AVALANCHE raid—and the abundance of people was making him edgy. His skin tingled and palms itched, and the urge to reach for the Buster Sword was stronger than it probably should have been.

Cloud winced as a particularly shrill laugh drilled into his right temple. Swearing, he downed the rest of his drink and shoved away from the bar. The sooner he managed to escape this hellish nightmare, the better.

He pushed his way through the crowd to get in behind the bar and retrieve his sword. Behind him, the kitchen doors swung open and Jessie frowned at him. "You're not staying for the party?"

He slipped his sword holster onto his back, pulled it tight. "Will all these people still be here?"

"Of course."

"Then I'm gone."

Jessie placed a tray of fresh rounds onto the counter. "It wouldn't kill you to spend some time with the us," she murmured, her cheeks flushed pink.

Cloud shrugged, surprising her that he'd heard. "Probably not, but I just can't make the same guarantee." He fastened the harness. "When you see Tifa let her know."

"Let Tifa know what?" The woman in reference emerged through the same swinging doors Jessie had.

Long dark hair cascaded over smooth as silk shoulders, hanging loose as opposed to being tied back in its usual ponytail. In fact, her entire outfit was a sidestep away from her usual attire, and it gave Cloud pause.

Soft, cream colored top and fluttery skirt, bare legs and flat sandals. She looked..._fresh_...in a sea of unwashed, unkempt roughage. It did strange things to his insides and the quiet Nibleheim accented voice in the back of his brain whispered to him of promises and protection.

He shook his head; dismissed the annoying echo.

Her cinnamon swirled eyes took in the holster on his back and her perfect, pouty lips formed a brief moue of discontentment. "You're leaving."

Cloud shook himself. "Yeah." He shrugged broad shoulders. "I'm not a 'people person', Teef. You know this."

Her sigh was soft. "I know."

Jessie reached out and tapped Tifa on the shoulder, her face apologetic. "Sorry, but how do I mix a Myrthil Twist?"

Tifa nodded, gave the other woman an encouraging smile. She leaned over the bartop to issue instruction of some type, and Cloud found his eyes drawn to the sleek curve of her derriere. The thin material of her skirt clung to her curves in a way that was simply sinful. No woman had a right to a body like hers, he thought, shifting in his pants.

She turned suddenly, on her tiptoes, rising against him, reaching up and over his head to grab a bottle of amber colored liquid. "Excuse me," she murmured, placing one hand on his shoulder and using him as leverage.

Cloud closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh scent of her hair. More and more he found himself finding excuses to touch and be near her. She seemed afflicted with the same urge, and whether it was accidental or intentional he didn't care. It felt damn good.

She gave a slight grunt and then a satisfied sigh. "There we go." She dropped down again, her breath tickling the curve of his chin. She hovered for a split second longer than necessary, lips almost touching, then took a step back. "Here, Jessie. Use this." Over her shoulder, she said, "Well, if you don't want to stay, I'm certainly not going to force you."

There was something in her tone that spoke of challenge and he reacted. Like a gauntlet thrown down he picked up her words and used them right back. He stepped closer to her as she gathered used glasses to toss in the sink, one of his hands resting on her hip, the other braced against the bar-top. His breath teased her ear when he spoke. "You couldn't force me, even if you wanted to."

She surprised him by leaning back into his touch. "I'd like to think I wouldn't have to force you…" she whispered.

Cloud swallowed a groan.

Tifa darted a glance over her shoulder, eyes veiled by her long lashes but he swore he saw them twinkle with mischief.

His fingers flexed; body clenched. He bent his head toward the beckoning curve of her neck…

"Refill, Teeeefaaaah!" Drunk, Johnny plowed up to the bar, slammed his mug down.

Jarred,Tifa broke away from Cloud and went to attend her customer. She shook her head, removed the mug and grabbed a napkin. "I think you've had enough," she replied, wiping the remains of his last drink from his mouth and dabbing his shirt.

"Teeeeefaaaah," he sighed her name, blinked glassy eyes. "I love you."

Used to indulging just about every come on imaginable, she deflected easily. "In the condition you're in, Johnny, you'd love a pineapple."

"Nope," he shook his head; swayed. "Only you. I've...loved you...since I met you. You...you make me...feel better..."

Cloud scowled, fists tight at his side.

"That's sweet, Johnny. Thank you."

Buster Sword was right there...

"I could..I could make you happy. Wanna make you happy. Lemmemakeyouhappy?" He straightened, solemn-faced with tears in his eyes. "Please? I could love you so much better than _he_ can!" A wobbly finger jutted towards Cloud.

Tifa made a sympathetic tsk sound in her throat. "Aw, Johnny..."

She really needed to stop saying that guy's name.

"Can I have one kiss? Just one, to say I kissed my true loooove?"

"Johnny--"

"Okay, pal, that's enough," Cloud pushed his index finger to the other man's forehead, knocking him off the stool and onto his ass.

"Hey!" he spluttered, got tangled up in the legs of the crowd.

"Crap! Johnny, are you okay?" Tifa started around the bar, but found herself halted mid-stride by an unyielding arm around her waist.

"If you're smart, you aren't here when I get back," Cloud told the other man. "Come with me," he ordered Tifa, shackling her wrist with his fingers and practically dragging her from the bar.

"Cloud!" She had to quickstep to keep up with him. "Why did you do that?" she asked when they were in the upstairs hallway.

He gave her a level look over his shoulder, but continued his pace. "There are consequences to shit like that."

"It's not like he hasn't hit on me before," she pointed out.

Cloud stopped abruptly. Tifa yelped, nearly running into him. "What the hell is your problem?"

"_This_," he said, taking her hand and placing it over the front of his fatigues. "Is my problem."

"Oh." Tifa blinked.

Not giving her time to digest anything, his mouth was on hers. Demanding, hard, sensual, addicting. All the things she had somehow_known_it would be. Her lips parted and his tongue lingered over her lips, then slipped inside, stealing her breath.

Tifa's fingers tangled in his thick locks, weaving through the surprisingly silky strands, tugging him closer. She gasped into his mouth when his hands clutched her waist, stroking down over her backside, grinding himself against her.

He was thick, heavy, full.

"Tifa," he whispered.

Dazedly, she replied. "Hmm?"

"Say my name." He lifted her, his hands cupping her ass.

"Cloud," she gasped it into his neck, wrapped her legs around his waist.

He licked the spot just below her ear, pressed her back against the wall. "Again."

"Cloud."

"Again," he growled, sucking the lobe of her ear into his mouth, nipping at it with his teeth.

"Cloud, Cloud, Cloud," she chanted as his mouth moved lower, suckling the tendons of her neck. She was pushing at his pants, her palm sliding down the front of him to cup his heavy erection.

He exhaled against her skin. He ran his hands along the smooth perfection of her back, his nails raking slightly. Tifa instinctively bucked against him, tossing her head back. That small action nearly sent him over the edge of control. His body throbbed in response.

Tifa linked her hands behind his neck, molding herself against him as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Cloud's breath hissed from between clenched teeth. He palmed her back, pressing her closer.

"Cloud," she murmured against his lips.

His mouth brushed against the pulse of her neck. The brief contact caused her breath to hitch in her throat, and her fingers to involuntarily tighten. She shivered when she felt his tongue swirl against her skin, and warm fingers slid along the curve of her shoulder, dancing along the edge of her top.

"Tell me what to do." His voice was whisper soft against her ear, sinfully tempting. "Tell me what you want."

Tifa wasn't sure of the words to use. How did she tell him that she wanted to feel him inside and all around, that she wanted him in every way possible? So she said, simply, "You. Only you."

He nipped at her mouth, over and over again, as his warm, firm hands skimmed her overly anxious body. With deliberate touches, he teased her nipples through soft material with his blunt fingers, until they peaked and then he pulled the neckline down, revealing the dusky crown for his pleasure.

One knee shoved hard between her legs, spreading her open, giving him access to her other hidden secrets. He tugged the hem of her skirt up over her thighs, bunching the material at his wrist. He probed her with his fingers, fondling her folds through the lace of her panties. He pressed his thumb against her damp center, watching her face with hooded eyes as he began rubbing.

"Oh, Gods!" Hips lifted of their own accord, silently begging for his touch. She unconsciously rotated against his exploring hand, her soft gasps blending with the muted sounds of the downstairs party. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as he stroked and teased.

His eyes glittered in the shadows. Her scent was rich and thick with desire. He growled, low and deep. "No one else, ever."

In answer, Tifa lifted her fingers to his face, traced his jaw, up to his golden spikes before tugging at him, pulling his mouth down to hers.

With a low sound he moved partially away from her, so that he could unzip his pants. That done, he closed the gap again. The rough pad of his tongue moved across her flesh, tasting her, sliding across her collar bone and over the soft swell of her breast. He captured the tip between his teeth, rolling her erect nipple between his canines, tugging gently, enjoying her startled gasp.

Cloud lowered his head, moved down her body. He pushed her skirt up further, and crouched between her thighs. At the first touch of his mouth against her damp panties, Tifa arched her back, her fingers splayed in his hair, clutching fistfuls between her fingers. "Cloud!"

She felt his fingers stroking just below his wonderful mouth, sneaking past the elastic and sliding back out, teasing her. Pressure was building, moving within her, pooling low in her abdomen. "Oh, please…please, Cloud…"

"Just like that, say my name again," he murmured, the very tip of his tongue teasing her.

Splintering, teetering on the edge of control and desperation, she complied, "Cloud...oh, Cloud..."

He cupped her in his hands, pulling her closer to bury his face between her thighs, humming when she squirmed. He grunted when she gripped him, holding him in place as her hips surged and she writhed against his face. She pulled his hair.

Demanding.

Satisfied, Cloud pushed her panties aside, traveling the seam of her most intimate place with his tongue, coaxing forth long drawn out moans and sobs for more.

She was frantic, panting and moaning with her palm pressed to her mouth, trying to silence her increasing volume.

"Don't," his voice was rough. "Let me hear you." He lifted one leg over his shoulder, plundered rithlessly with tongue and fingers.

"Cloud! I'm coming, I'm coming," she cried out, the startled sound punctuated by liquid heat coating his tongue.

Cloud traveled back up her body, slowly easing into her, pressing to the hilt. "Ifrit." His jaw was clenched, head thrown back, tendons corded. Her body trembled and squeezed, the suction of her release punishing and so damn good.

She clutched at him, her nails digging into his shoulders, her small cries muffled against his chest. Cloud closed his eyes as she wrapped her gloriously long legs around his waist, pulling him tighter against her, undulating her hips as he moved in and out of her. His breathing turned ragged, his heart threatening to burst from his chest with each powerful stroke.

Tight.

Hot.

Wet.

_His._

Tifa kissed him hard, moving her tongue in and out of his mouth in the same rhythm that he was moving in and out of her. "Good," she moaned. "So good."

He groaned in response. He gripped her hips as he buried himself in her deeper and deeper, harder and faster. He slanted his mouth over hers again and again, his hips increasing tempo. Tifa gave a broken sob of pleasure, so close to orgasm, but he'd take her just to the peak and slowly bring her back down again, tormenting her and thrilling her at the same time.

"Please…" she begged as he moved almost completely out of her, teasing her clit with his fingers.

"Please, what?" He surged back in.

She grit her teeth, wrapped her legs tighter around him, trying to attain some control.

"Please what?" he asked again, voice hoarse.

"Make me come, Cloud," she moaned.

He gripped her hips in his hands, held her firm as his thrusts increased speed. She was hot and wet, her inner walls pulling at him, hugging his cock tight.

"Cloud," she cried out, clutching at him. "Say my name!"

He slid all the way out, rubbing the head of his engorged cock against her clit, stroking. "Tifa. My Tifa."

She arched against him. He lifted her ass off the wall, bringing her up high as he ground against her over and over.

Her fingers dug into the taut muscles of his shoulders, urging him deeper. "Hold on." He hooked his arms under her thighs, lifting her as he buried himself as deep as he could. Her breathless moans and restless movements were driving him mad. He felt scorched by her.

Her inner muscles were clenching again and he groaned, burying his face in her neck.

His movements became almost frantic; long, hard strokes, driving deeper and deeper and with each one the friction and tension were mounting. He felt the endless pressure of her muscles locking around him, blinding him with ecstasy, his body driven to heights of pleasure he had never before imagined.

She made a broken sound, wrapping herself completely around him, locking her legs around his back, lifting into each thrust. "Oh, Gods, Cloud!" She screamed as she came; white hot bliss spiraling through her as he pumped furiously.

Shaken and trembling she barely had time to come down from her release when Cloud dropped them, rolling so that he was on his back and she was straddling him. "Time for me to get what I want," his breath hissed from his lungs. He framed her hips, pulling her down over him, sliding back inside. "Arch your back. Take me."

She leaned back and slid herself up and down on him, enjoying the way his lip curled and his eyes rolled. He allowed her to control the pace, and so she did, moving in unhurried rolls. She took him deep and rocked against him, then lifted until she was almost free before sinking back down. His groans and moans were music to her ears. She felt power coursing through her, singing in her veins. Having control, if only for the moment, was like an aphrodisiac.

Cloud grunted when she picked up her rhythm, her hands pressing into his shoulders, her eyes locked on his. He surged up to meet her downward momentum, hands tight on her hips, driving into her, feeling her coming apart in his arms, her cries of release still echoing in his mind. He felt her slick heat spill from her body, coating him. His eyes rolled back in his head as she took on a more aggressive pace, thrusting her hips.

His own orgasm was approaching, but he wanted to feel her release again. He moved his hand, parting the curls at the base of their joining, thumb flicking her swollen clit. "One more, Tifa. Give me one more."

Tifa rode him harder, leaning forward to bite his shoulder. "Cloud...oh...oh...yes!"

"Tifa!" Cloud exploded, his orgasm slamming through his entire body with the subtlety of 10,000 volts. Every muscle convulsed and jerked, endlessly it seemed, and the world went white before exploding in colors.

Slow, her hips stopped moving, but he didn't withdraw from her and she seemed in no hurry to move.

Her sultry, breathless laugh tickled his ear. "Are you still not staying for the party?"

"What're you talking about?" he rasped. "We're not done."

Tifa smiled as his strong arms encircled her. "No?"

"No." He groaned as she shifted position. "We're taking this somewhere more comfortable, but we're not done."

Tifa blushed, adjusting her clothing. "I think the others may wonder where we are," she commented.

"Doubt it." Cloud tilted his head, eyes twinkling. "Wedge poked his head around the corner a few minutes ago."

"He did not!"

"He did."

"Cloud!"

"What?" he shrugged, lips curved and fingers teasing still perked nipples. "He'll cover for us."

Pleasurable tingles followed the wake of his fingertip. "Oh, you think?"

"Without a doubt," he said, nuzzling her neck, making her moan.

"What makes you so sure?"

"I'll kick his ass if he doesn't."

"Oh, well, there is that, I suppose." Then all thought left her as he took her mouth once more.


	29. Chapter 29

REASSURANCE

The street outside Seventh Heaven was dark when he pulled Fenrir up to the curb, the last of the customers having left hours prior, their slushy footprints still evident on the snow covered sidewalk. A busy night by the looks of it.

Cloud removed his goggles and swung himself from his customized motorcycle. He pressed a button, allowing the bike's side compartments to open and removed First Tsurugi from its hidden sleeve. He gave the gleaming blade a once over—thankful to have not had to use it on this trip.

Although the monster attacks between Edge and Kalm were becoming far less frequent with WRO scheduled patrols, given the penchant for trouble finding him, Cloud wasn't willing to take chances and carried the blade with him on every delivery.

After slipping the sword into the harness on his back, Cloud leaned over the motorcycle's compartment and took out the quilt, flowers, letter and knitted sweater that Elmyra had sent back with him for Tifa, along with the two boxed gifts for the kids.

Arms laden with packages, he fumbled for the key to the side door, and used his elbow on the latch to shoulder his way inside. The small porch was dim lit; the only illumination provided by a small lamp beside the steel door that led into Seventh's main bar area. Cloud shrugged his load onto the shelf next to the coat rack and stripped off his cold gloves and bracer. A light stamp of boot removed the muck he'd carried in from the outdoors and he frowned at the puddle.

The weather had been his primary reason for delaying his travel an extra day—the unexpected snowstorm had created slick driving conditions and cut power in small areas. Although he had been quite warm and dry at Elmyra's, and Tifa had informed him that Seventh was fine, Cloud had still felt heavy with concern and an unnamed worry, and the moment road conditions were 'passable' he'd headed for home.

He enjoyed his time on the road—the roar and feel of Fenrir—and he enjoyed doing what he did for a living. Strife Delivery Service allowed for untethered freedom but as much enjoyment as Cloud got from doing his job, he still missed his family. He missed talkative chatter from eager little voices at the dinner table, along with the smell of warm food, and the sight of dark eyes and a soft smile on a face he'd loved since childhood.

Thinking of Tifa made him feel lighter and hastened his steps from the porch, and through their odd family home. It had only been three days since he'd last seen her—last held her in his arms—but even three days felt too long. He was off-balance without her near him...just a little lost. Sometimes he wondered if she felt the same while he was gone, but never dared to ask.

Tifa hated to be considered weak or needy. She took pride in being self-reliant, and although she never refused help and cheerfully encouraged their rag tag group's familial bonds—she never actively sought him out either. And that small uncertainty held his tongue on words he should have spoken, actions he should have taken.

Despite his own lingering self-doubts, he knew that Tifa cared for him. Knew that she loved him. That was never the question. She'd dedicated herself to him when he was a vegetable in Mideel and had remained steadfast in her belief in him—even when he'd lost it in the face of adversity. No, her love was not in doubt.

But did she _need _him?

With the same near desperation that he needed her?

He stopped outside of their bedroom door, raked his hand through damp hair. It was just past four in the morning and as much as he'd missed her—as much as he longed to see her—he should probably take the cot in his office as opposed to waking her. It was a Saturday, chances were she hadn't closed until after one, and clean up easily took another hour, if not longer given the foot traffic he'd noted outside. She was no doubt exhausted.

He was half turned away when her voice filtered to him. "Cloud..."

She was awake? Careful, he pushed the door open, slipped quietly into the dark room. "Tifa?" No answer. Closer to the bed, he spoke again. "Tifa?"

Tangled amidst cotton and hair, she lay curled on her side, the blankets twisted around her limbs. Her eyes were closed behind the strands of her dark hair, and her breathing was deep, if slightly uneven.

Asleep.

But he'd been sure he'd heard her. He ruffled the hair at the nape of his neck, cocked his head, observing her.

She was beautiful. Pale skin, dark hair, long limbs—tight and toned from years of training—and sensual curves that were all the more evident in her thin sleep attire.

She shifted suddenly, startling him from his appreciative staring, and kicked at the blankets, her face crumbling. "Cloud...don't..."

Dreaming.

Of him, apparently.

A grimace and a sharp gasp from her.

Nothing pleasant, it looked like, and he felt his heart kick in his chest.

"Cloud..." Her arm flung out, dangled over the edge of the mattress, fingers twitching. Reaching. "Please. Don't leave...please..."

And the kick in his heart became a knife.

They'd never spoke of it—his absence when he'd contracted Geostigma—and that, he had felt, was for the best. Her quiet forgiveness was enough for him, and even though he knew she deserved _something_ from him—explanation or apology—he was unable to articulate anything beyond: "I'm back" for her.

But that wasn't enough—not nearly enough, he knew—but being the coward he was, he had taken the easy road and simply continued about the motions as if he'd never left. He had thought she'd be okay with that—had convinced himself that _they_ were okay.

"...don't go..." She sounded so small, so desperate.

Clearly he was wrong.

Shaken, he took her outstretched hand in his own, lowered himself down to one knee. "Tifa. I'm right here. Right here." Gentle, he cupped her face—flinched at the dried tracks he felt there.

Still lost in the throes of her dream, Tifa clutched at him, her grip painfully tight on his hand.

He regretted ever having asked himself if she needed him. Her strangled, quiet pleas and desperate touch was confirmation.

"...Don't leave me...I can't... please...don't go..."

Her fingertips were cold against his lips. "I won't go. Not ever again, Tifa. Please, believe me." His throat ached with the sincerity of his quiet words. "I'm right here."

Her mouth was soft beneath his, tasting of salty mint, and he wondered how long she had wept for him. How many nights had she lain crying in her sleep—reaching for him? How many nights had he not there to answer her?

Too many.

Cloud used his free hand to push her bangs back away from her brow. He leaned in and kissed her nose, her cheeks, the damp from her eyelashes. He offered her whispers and light touches, small kisses along her jaw to her ear where he whispered her name, promised he would stay.

He could feel it, the moment when awareness crept into her subconscious, and he leaned back—only far enough to witness her eyes blink open.

_See me here. I'm here for you._

Dark, her gaze remained foggy and unfocused for a fraction of a second, and then she lit up, a smile of welcome blooming on her face. "Cloud! You're home!"

Her skin was soft against his knuckles. "Hi."

"When did you—?"

Leaning into the mattress, Cloud found her mouth again. "Just now." He lingered just above her, his heart heavy in his chest.

Taking in his somber expression, she brushed his hair back, concern tightened the corners of her mouth. "Is there something the matter?" she whispered.

He swallowed against his too-dry throat, pressed his lips to her palm. "You were dreaming..."

She frowned, a furrow forming above her nose as she tried to recall her dream. After a moment, a blush crept along her face, realization and embarrassment turning her gaze away. "Cloud, I—"

No words, he thought. He was worthless with words—and they were inadequate at the moment anyway. She didn't need to feel embarrassed. If anything it was him that should feel ashamed, and he did. She deserved better than cold sheets and empty excuses.

Fists planted on either side of her hips, he pressed her back, took her lips again. Searching, tasting, cajoling...he let her flavor seep through him, and if his touch was a tad desperate that couldn't be helped.

She needed him, and he would show her that he was there—would _always_ be there. He whispered her name, followed her down to the bed.

Only when she went pliant, melting against him, did he allow his lips to move away, along her chin, across her jaw, until they caressed the soft curve of her neck. He set a languorous pace, savoring, taking his time. She tasted sweet on his tongue.

He mouthed her name against her pulse and smirked when the brief contact caused her breath to hitch and her fingers to involuntarily tighten around the gold strands in her hand. She shivered deliciously when his tongue swirled, his mouth once more moving in a slow slide to cover her shoulder in lingering, open kisses.

She smelled of sweet soap and sleep.

Kneeling, Cloud shifted himself so that he could see her face. Her eyes were closed, dark crescents fanning flushed cheeks, her head tilted back, exposing the slender line of her throat. Adoringly, he nuzzled her neck, murmured nothing words.

He repeated the motion again when she moaned. A swirl of tongue, a caress of lips, his hands rising to cradle her face. He felt her shudder, her slender frame pressed tight to his. He skimmed her lips with the tip of his tongue, silently encouraging her to open for him.

When she complied with a breathy little gasp he covered her mouth fully, sinking deep, relishing every sensation: the taste of her on his tongue, the scent of her in his nose, the feel of her against his skin.

She clung to him, her legs curled around his, her feet digging into the back of his calves, her fingers clenched tight in the fabric of his shirt.

He whispered her name in between reverent kisses and feather-light touches.

Tifa shoveled her fingers through his hair, responded with quiet sighs and low moans.

Her eyes no longer held any lingering sadness from her dream, but instead they smoldered up at him and Cloud was entranced by the simmering flecks hidden in their depths. He nipped at her mouth, immediately soothing the small bite with a broad stroke of his tongue.

She stirred restlessly, hips undulating up against his, making him groan. Gods above, she felt so good. So warm, and soft, and inviting.

Very deliberate he stroked himself against her, pressed his chest to her swollen breasts, the motion teasing her nipples through the near sheer material of her nightshirt. Still fully clothed he rolled his hips in short, shallow thrusts, giving her a teasing taste of what he wanted...what she craved.

She was hot and damp against him and he felt his erection swell. Delicious friction caused him to grind his teeth. When she scraped her own teeth along his neck, sucking a small bit of skin into her mouth, his eyes closed on a shudder.

To have her like this, with him, it was something he cherished, and he hated to think that maybe she didn't know that. That she thought he could ever leave her again.

Considering, Cloud lowered his head, took a puckered tip of one eager breast into his mouth, circled and suckled through cloth until she was arched against him, small mewls breaking over his skin. Her hands skimmed along his back, pressing him closer.

The blunt of his fingers teased the hem of her camisole top until, breathless, she ordered him to remove it. Smiling, he tugged the flimsy material over her head and then tossed it over his shoulder. Her tiny sleep shorts followed. When she lay completely bare beneath him he growled his appreciation into her navel.

Her hands reached for him, fingers threading through his hair as she tilted her head—watching him through half-lidded eyes that smoldered his blood. Holding her gaze, he once again lowered his head, this time to flick his tongue into the well of her belly button, then lower, skimming the flat planes of her abdomen, into the crevice between hip and thigh.

Her entire body trembled when he let out a hot breath against moist skin. Reverent, patient, and loving, he placed his mouth on her.

"Cloud!" His name was smoke on satin as legs spread apart to allow him unhindered access.

Eyes open, watching her face, he slid the flat of his tongue along her seam, parting the folds only a bit for light, quick flicks. Her eyelashes fluttered, breathes quickened. Encouraged, Cloud dipped down, nuzzled into her, using mouth and tongue and teeth until she was writhing against the sheets.

Moaning his name, she raised one leg, the motion brushing her smooth skin against the coarseness of his days growth stubble. "Not enough," she reprimanded, voice thick with want. "I want you; inside."

Hurried, Cloud pushed himself up onto his knees, quickly divesting himself of his own clothes.

"Better." Tifa lifted her hips, beseeching.

Gods, she was beautiful.

He levered himself above her, gripped himself in his hand. A few hard strokes and he smeared pre-cum along the head. "Tifa." His voice was low and heavy with pent up desire.

She reached for him, her hands skimming the flexing muscles of his stomach, then lower. She cupped him, positioned him.

Slow, so slow it damn near killed him, he pushed himself inside, only to pull back out after only a few inches—then in again.

"Oh!" Tifa turned her face into the pillow, her startled cry muffled by Chocobo down and cotton.

He feathered kisses on her temples, on her nose, his mouth settling on hers as his hips began to move in a gentle, coaxing rhythm. Using his arms to hold himself above her, he angled his hips, buried himself deeper, ensuring that his strokes remained long and slow. Her nails dug into his back, his name was a litany on her lips.

Gaia, he loved how she said his name. No one else managed to make it sound so noble, so perfect. She clutched at him, pulled him flush to her.

"Here," she whispered.

And so he stayed, face buried against the curve of her shoulder, hips moving in drawn out thrusts. She followed the rhythm he set, moved with him and for him, so each motion was like a continuous roll. Pleasure never peaked, never ceased, but remained constant—both walking along the fine line of completion, but not crossing. Not yet...

His hands slid over her; found every hollow and secret. He didn't speak, but made small hums of pleasure against her ear. He was incredibly loving, taking her with the utmost care and tenderness. She was, to him, the most precious thing in all the world. He wanted her to know that.

Words, he lacked, so he let his body do the talking.

Mouth to skin. _I need you. _

Harder, deeper thrusts. _I want you._

Eyes locked. _I love you._

"Cloud!" Her fingers dug into his buttocks, urged him to go faster.

Obedient, he adjusted his angle, increased his tempo.

Her breathless cry of release was swallowed by his mouth as he claimed hers in a scorching kiss, his hips continuing to surge forward. Her inner muscles squeezed and trembled around him, and that sensation was his undoing. With a hoarse groan he drove into her, his own release nearly blinding.

When it was finished, Cloud rolled off of her, pulled her across his chest, both of them slick with sweat and chests heaving. They lay in musky silence as their bodies returned to normal, his lips occasionally brushing the side of her head.

This close he could hear it as her heartbeat slowed, as her breathing eased. He inhaled her scent mixed with his and felt some form of male satisfaction bloom in his gut. It was probably best not to dwell on that inner smugness, but it still caused a smile to curve his lips.

Her fingertips drifted along his chest, absent patterns scrawled skin to skin. "Cloud..."

"Hm?"

"About what you heard..."

"Tifa." He turned so that he could face her. He wouldn't hide from this, from her. Not anymore. "I'm sorry."

She closed her mouth, waited. Patient, as only she could be.

"I know I hurt you. I didn't want that, you have to know that."

"I do."

Good, that was something. He cleared his throat, continued, "And I want you to know that I won't leave you again."

She nodded, "Okay."

"No," he shook his head, leveled her a steady stare. "I want you to _know _that, Teef. Not just agree to it. Know it: here," he placed his palm over her heart. "I want you to know that no matter what happens...I will be there for you. Always." _Believe me._

Her eyes misted over and he could see doubt and faith warring behind the veil of her lashes. Finally, she offered him a tremulous smile. "I'll try."

It was more than he deserved, so he took it. He let his hand drift through her hair, moved it to cradle her cheek. "And I'll be here to remind you." A kiss. "Again." Another. "And again." Once more. "And again."


	30. Chapter 30

AN: Also done for LiveJournal Springkink. Kitsune13 has a companion piece to this, and has, in fact, inspired me to turn this into a full story. Hope you like this initial showing of the beginning!

* * *

**HIPS DON'T LIE**

Soft music spilled out from unseen speakers and filtered through the room in low bass and slow rhythm. In the middle of the room, Cloud Strife surveyed the ornate décor and furniture with a quirked brow. Opulent was too mild a word for the extravagant surroundings. Gold chandelier, crystal lighting, satin and silk pillows on velvet couches.

Plush.

Rich.

Exotic.

The room smelled strongly of rich incense with a faint undertone of musk that probably went unnoticed by most who visited, but Cloud wasn't like most people and the commingled scents made him feel slightly nauseous.

He was going to kill Zack for this. He really was.

Cloud sighed, ruffled his blond spikes with one hand—a gesture incredibly similar to that of the man he was currently pissed at.

He should have known something like this would happen. It was just like Zack to take everything Cloud said and completely ignore it. For weeks, Zack had been hinting at a 'killer surprise' should Cloud pass his final SOLDIER exams, and yesterday when he had emerged from the Simulation Room sporting a new uniform, Zack had been there—grinning.

That should have been warning enough.

"Come on, Cloud. Let's celebrate! I'm taking you to Seventh Heaven!"

Seventh Heaven was Shin-Ra's private "Gentlemen's Club", admittance exclusive only to SOLDIERS and ranked Officers. It was known for being mind-blowing and completely over the top. Zack was a regular. He'd told Cloud often enough that once Cloud was SOLDIER too, they were going to go there and: "Get so shitfaced we can't talk, and fuck so much we can't walk."

So, really, it was no surprise to find Zack sporting his eager face outside. Immediately, Cloud shook his head. "No."

And Zack, being Zack, tried cajoling, teasing, and even threatening, but Cloud had been resolute in his refusal. Passing didn't mean anything. He had to prove himself...he had to become worthy. So he shrugged off the invitation and went to the gym instead.

Not surprisingly, Zack followed, doing his best puppy-dog stare.

"You'll love it," he'd told Cloud. "The women there are _insanely_ hot. There's this one...Aerith...Gods, man, she drives me crazy."

"Zack, I don't want to _pay_ for sex," he'd countered. Especially not when he could get it for free, and frequently if he wanted. The reasons he didn't take any of the numerous propositions he was given were his own, and no amount of ribbing or coaxing was going to get him to change his mind. Not in this.

"It's not just _sex_", Zack had laughed. "It's a whole experience. One like you won't believe."

"Pass."

And there the conversation had ended—or so Cloud thought. He really should have figured Zack wouldn't have let it go that easy. It should have crossed his mind that Zack was up to something when he mysteriously couldn't be bothered to spar with him tonight.

And, of course, when one of the Shin-Ra Executive drivers had shown up at his room, saying he was instructed not to take 'no' for an answer, Cloud had known for sure something was up.

He was, however, too curious for his own good, and had decided to hell with it, and went along.

Now, in a room that looked like it belonged in some Wutai harem, Cloud was having second thoughts and wondered if he could sneak out the window. It was only three stories. He could probably jump that with his SOLDIER enhancements. Besides, there was a ledge just below...

The tinkling of bells, light and quick, turned him from the open window to the now opening door.

_Shit, too late._

Being that his face was angled away as it was, and with the bed's canopy in the way, the bells were the first thing he noticed. Slung low on a bare waist, they jingled with each sashay of hip. Beneath them was a thin scrap of scarlet colored silk and the longest legs Cloud had ever seen. He followed them down to strapped sandals and exposed toes, then back up; slowly.

Her abdomen was sleek and toned—more athletic than he'd imagine for someone in her _profession_, and her top...

His pants shrunk. She was topless.

Full and round and dusted with gold, her breasts were flawless. Dusky nipples swayed with each step until she was scant feet from him.

"My face, if your curious, is about a foot higher."

Flushed, Cloud jerked his gaze away from her chest and found himself staring into swirling dark eyes.

_Familiar_ dark eyes.

Shock and surprise must have shown on his own face, because her lips curved—ever so slightly—in dry amusement.

"It's been a long time, Cloud."

Throat too dry, it took him two tries to say her name. "Tifa?"

White teeth flashed in a nervous smile. "Hi."

"Tifa...?" He blinked. And then again. This was the point he usually woke up, not even fulfilling _this_ fantasy in his wildest dreams. But when he opened his eyes, there she remained, a vision in silk and skin.

She was taller than the last time he'd seen her. Her hair was longer, also. Thick and dark, it spilled along her back in rich waves, over shoulders and gracing the side of another area she'd filled out in. He swallowed thickly, conscious of the still bulging erection in his pants.

Her eyes flickered, followed his fidget and her cheeks bloomed. Gently teasing, she asked, "Happy to see me?"

"I..."

"Good," she cut him off. "That's the reaction I was hoping for." Smoky, her voice drifted over him like satin; coiled him. She strolled across the space separating them, each step punctuated by the trilling of tiny bells. She reached for him, her fingers following the zipper in his vest.

And Cloud lost himself in her scent.

This close, she smelled of something fresh and clean and _home_.

He closed his eyes, inhaled. The whys and hows and millions of other questions that stormed his brain vanished in the haze of lust and unbridled _want_ he felt this close to her.

Tifa.

Here.

Tifa.

With him.

Tifa.

Pushing him back into a cushioned chair beside the bed, crawling onto his lap.

Tifa.

Straddling him, her hands on his shoulders, her hips rolling in such a wicked, _wicked_ way.

Tifa.

Working at Seventh Heaven. Working. This was her job. How many others...? He shook himself, that thought making him suddenly sick.

"Tifa."

"Cloud," her breath steamed the edge of his ear, her voice frayed the edge of his control. He closed his eyes, leaned back in the chair and allowed his hands to grip her hips, halting her gyrations.

"Stop," he growled, despite the voice in his head screaming 'more!'.

Her expression faltered, eyes clouding with doubt. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

"How long?"

"How...how long?" she sounded just a bit breathless.

"Have you been doing this? Working here?" He sneered the last part. He couldn't help it. The idea of her with anyone else set in him murderous urges, that logically he knew he had no right to feel. They'd been apart for over seven years. She owed him nothing. But she was his _everything_. She was the reason why he tried so hard, pushed so far...

His fingers tightened as he waited her response. His stomach was so tight it hurt. Would he be able to turn her away, even knowing she was just there because she was paid to be?

Cinnamon colored eyes blinked and confusion gave way to laughter.

It shouldn't turn him on like it did, but the sound hummed through his blood and thickened his already hard arousal.

His fingers flexed on her hips, the motion tugging the chain and jingling the bells. He was anything but amused.

"Cloud," her mouth slid into a smile, her dark eyes softening. "I don't work here."

"What?" Now it was his turn to be confused.

"I don't." She leaned back, the motion rubbing in all the right ways. She gave the room a cursory side-glance. "It's much nicer than the orphanage I work at, but I don't think it suits me."

"Then, what...why...how?" Cloud blinked, unable to process much of anything with her in his lap, her breasts grazing his chin.

"I'm here because Zack called."

"Zack...?" Cloud gave a sharp exhale when she rolled against him, grinding down.

"Mmm." She moved again, the jingling of bells keeping time with her. "Told me you passed your SOLDIER exam." She stopped moving, waited for him to lift heavy eyes to her. "Why didn't you tell me, Cloud?"

The hurt in her voice was unavoidable.

"I would have. I was going to." _When I was stronger_.

"I don't think you would have," she murmured. "You stopped writing."

He had. Eight months prior.

He also stopped opening her letters. He kept them, unwilling to lose any link he had to her, but he refused to write her again unless it was to tell her that he'd passed his exam.

"Why here?" he deflected.

Tifa inclined her head, one shoulder lifted. "I wanted to surprise you."

"I'm surprised," he gave a rueful chuckle.

"I figured if I had any chance, I'd have to do something dramatic," she continued. "Seducing you in harem get-up seemed unexpected enough." Her smile hinted on bashful and for the first time Cloud noticed the fine tremors coursing through her body. "I just hoped you were seduce-able."

She was scared, he realized with an unexpected twinge in his heart. Half-naked, nervous and trembling; she was exposed in more ways than one.

For him.

Because he was too much of a coward to be bare for her.

"Come here." There was both sensual invitation and command in his tone. His fingers tangled in her hair and he cradled her face in his palm. The feel of her soft skin, the heat of her lips, it all sent sparks of desire and want shooting through his body so hot and fast it was him that trembled.

She kissed him back, teased his searching tongue with her own.

His body—already hard and aching—jerked in response.

They hadn't spoken in years, hadn't communicated in months, and yet here they were, consumed and demanding and fitting together so, so well.

Like they were meant for this.

Like she was meant for him.

She slid her hands beneath his shirt, skimmed along his skin, stroking and teasing. Her teeth tugged at his ear, her tongue swirling and dancing along the rim as she whispered the things she wanted to do to him—and have done to her.

He took her mouth in hot, urgent need, giving her—in that one kiss—all the longing and pent up desire he'd held for a lifetime.

She gasped, clutched his head and melted against him.

A more satisfying reaction he couldn't have hoped for. Still, there were clothes. He had on too many damn clothes.

Cloud growled in frustration, tearing his mouth away from hers only long enough to swear and try and remove his garments without separating from her at all.

Together, they clumsily managed to remove his shirt and belt, shoved his pants to his ankles.

"Tifa...boots..."

"Forget them," she gasped, resuming her place, straddled across his hips. "Want you."

"Gods, yes," he hissed.

He helped her shimmy out of her bottom, but when she reached for the clasp of her belly chain he shook his head.

"Leave it," he brushed a kiss against the curve of her breast. "It's sexy." He lifted her carefully, settling her over his lap, the broad head of his erection testing the damp heat between her legs.

She pulled back to look into his eyes, hers showing the first signs of hesitation. "Cloud...I've never...I mean...you're my first." Her face was buried in his neck, so the rest of her words were too muffled to make out, but he knew.

Of course she hadn't been with anyone else. This was Tifa. Sweet, honest, honorable Tifa, who had promised him at the age of six they would be together forever. This was Tifa, who at age eight, made his mother and her father stand outside the gazebo in the park and watch as he—embarrassed but willing—had dropped down on one knee and proposed with a folded daisy ring. This was Tifa who had wept for him when he'd been beaten by bullies, tended him when he was sick, and written him every day he was away trying to become a better man for her.

And Cloud could kick himself for even thinking she could work in a place like this. He nodded, nudged her into looking at him and placed slow, gentle kisses to her lips, neck, nipples.

"We'll go slow," he told her. Patient, Cloud used his mouth and tongue and fingers to ready her. Only when she was gasping his name, riding his fingers did he attempt anything more. Slow, steady, he eased himself up, angled his hips and groaned as she took him, inch by inch.

Snug, he filled her, and the sensation was so exquisite Cloud lost reason. Sensation was all he had. His arms tightened possessively around her waist as he whispered words of encouragement as after a time pain gave way to pleasant heat and Tifa began to move.

"That's it," he crooned. "Ride me, Tifa."

The sight of her took his breath away. Full breasts swayed, nipples peaked and hard as they rubbed his chest.

"Cloud," she rasped, hips lurching against his in tingling, trilling rhythm as she linked her arms behind his neck. "I had no idea..."

Neither had he. In his limited experience nothing and no one had compared to this. This feeling of completeness. Of rightness.

Perfection.

"Cloud—!" Tifa tensed, his name a startled cry. Her fingers scrambled into his hair, her eyes wide as she gasped and writhed.

"Shhh," he eased, surging up from the chair. "It's okay. Just feel."

"Oh, oh, Gods," she arched back, tossed that magnificent cascade of hair over her shoulder and keened his name.

Her muscles clamped around him, so slick and hot tight as a fist and Cloud couldn't hold himself in check any longer. Hands harsh on her hips, he ground her down as he thrust up.

She moved with him, countering each thrust with her natural grace and before long Cloud felt his body tighten, pleasure clawing through him.

"Come," he breathed against her ear, pushing up. He let one hand drift down, pressed and teased the swollen nub of skin between her folds. "I want to feel you come," he growled. "Hot and tight, slick and needy. Come for me, Tifa."

His words, combined with his touch, sent her over the edge and Cloud groaned his own release as she shook and trembled with hers.

Long, breath labored, minutes later, she lifted her head from his shoulder and smiled at him. Eyes slumberous and lips kiss swollen, Cloud didn't think he'd ever seen anything more beautiful.

"Congratulations," she said, quiet, sincere. "You finally made SOLDIER. You fulfilled your dream."

Cloud shook his head. "I fulfilled my dream, but it has nothing to do with SOLDIER," he replied. "And everything to do with you."

Shy, she nuzzled beneath his chin. "I want to believe that—"

"Believe it," he cut in.

"Okay." She shifted against him to get comfortable and the bells on her hip tinkled.

Immediately, Cloud felt heat and ache stir in his groin. He wondered, briefly, if hearing bells chime would forever be a hard-on inducing sound. He could only imagine the embarrassment of walking into certain shops, but when he felt Tifa soften and respond to his inquisitive probing, it didn't really matter.


	31. Chapter 31

The World Outside

The world outside was chaos.

Windows busted from shops and stores, fires and sirens, screams of the panicked and the sobs of the grief stricken. The beaches were empty and the cobbled streets were literally littered with people crying and desperate to get away, to get home. But ships and flights were cancelled and those people left here, were stuck here.

It was a sad sight and it made Tifa's chest ache, but then a warm hand circled her wrist, tugged her closer and blue eyes found hers. His voice, when he spoke, was gentle. "Nothing we can do for them. Come on."

Tifa followed, her fingers now laced between his. He smiled at her over his shoulder and since it was such a rare, beautiful, thing that she forgot everything around her and smiled back.

Cloud stopped at an unattended vending stand and opened the cooler to snag a couple of bottles of ridiculously expensive Icicle Inn imported water and a bucket of ice. Then, as an afterthought snatched one of the blooming flowers used as decoration on the cart and tucked it behind her ear. Blushing, she leaned her head into his shoulder and they walked once more.

The bungalow was shaded and cool when they got inside, and Tifa let out a soft sigh of relief. It felt good. Behind her Cloud made a soft grunt-probably amusement-and settled his hands on her shoulders, his lips on the nape of her neck.

She turned in his arms, her hands moving along his chest and shoulders until her fingers found tunnels in his thick spikes.

His eyes were tender, his expression soft, and he looked so young when he confessed, "I always planned this place on being a honeymoon present."

Her lips quirked, her stomach flipped, and she tilted her head. "I was always curious."

He nuzzled the spot below her ear. "I knew...before I knew," he said. And to anyone else that wouldn't have made sense, but she understood.

"It's a nice present," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him, to hold him close.

"I'm glad you said yes," he murmured and for the first time since they'd emerged from the Northern Crater, his voice seemed heavy.

Like she would have said no, she thought.

Cloud had asked her when they realized Holy had failed. Meteor was coming and there was nothing left to do but wait for the inevitable end. At first, she had thought he was kidding, but when he'd motioned to Cid standing at the cockpit wheel, she realized he was serious.

Barret had given her away and Yuffie and Cait had wept like babies. Vincent had wished them a lifetime of happiness, and as jokes went, it was morbid-and pretty damn funny. Nanaki had given her four beads from his mane. They were for happiness, luck, wisdom, and love.

She touched them now, braided into her hair. Seeing the motion, Cloud lifted his fingers to her cheek. "They're okay," he said.

"I know." And they were. As okay as they could be, she supposed. Saying goodbye had been harder than she'd ever imagined it could be, but everyone was where they were supposed to be. Nanaki was back with Bugen in Cosmo Canyon and Yuffie was in Wutai (probably stealing all the materia from the vault), Cid was with Shera, Vincent had taken off to wherever Vincent went, and Barret had taken Cait to Kalm. To Marlene.

She had cried when she'd said goodbye to Barret, and he'd cried too, but when he had whispered to her: "Ain't no getting off this train," she knew that he'd be okay. And he'd make it okay for Marlene, too.

So they'd parted. Defeated heroes of the Planet to find their last moments of happiness.

Cloud had offered to take her to Nibleheim. She had refused.

Nibleheim held no happy memories for them, although thinking about the place actually helped her deal with the events happening now. For two people that had witnessed the most horrible of atrocities and endured perversions that remained unspoken, the fiery end of the world seemed almost par for the course.

So they came here. To sunshine and beaches and ocean views. To where the sky was tinted pink but not blanketed red. To where, within minutes of entering the bungalow, clothing became a non-option.

The world outside was quaking.

But her world consisted of strong arms and endless blue and the slow burn of skin on skin. The whisper of her name against her pulse, the tug of a hand in her hair and the sharp crest of pleasure with each movement.

Her world was not crumbling beneath oppressive gravity, but soaring and breaking in ways that filled her heart. He kissed her like they had forever. Whatever eloquence Cloud lacked in words, he made up for in touch.

His hands whispered how he adored her, his mouth stated claim on her skin, and his eyes declared unconditional love, devotion and faith.

The world outside trembled and the ocean roared.

Her world remained strong and steady and sky blue.

He gripped her hips and rocked into her while she kissed his mouth, his ears, his stubborn jaw. He teased and joked and rolled them around the bed like playful kittens. She wrapped herself around him, and wrapped him in her heart.

They drank water and made love.

They laughed and touched and kissed.

The world outside screamed.

She sighed his name.

Hours would never be enough; a lifetime-ten thousand lifetimes-would never be enough, but it was what they had and they made every minute count. There was no tears. He'd kissed them all away before they'd begun.

No regrets.

They'd tried. They'd failed in saving the planet, but they'd succeeded in something else. Something fleeting and precious and worth fighting and dying for all over again.

The world outside began to fall and the waves crushed and the ground broke.

"I'll find you," she whispered, cupping his face and holding onto her endless sky.

He smiled, pulled her close and secured her against him. "You won't have to," he whispered.

The world outside exploded.

* * *

AN: Done for Livejournal's Springkink community. **wibble** Such a sad prompt.


	32. Chapter 32

**Sharing is Caring**

She was always smiling. That giddy, happy, I'm in love with the world smile. Every damn time he walked into their apartment and she was there, she was wearing it. It made him want to scream.

At first it didn't bother him. It was refreshing to see, and he was happy for his roommate. He'd finally snagged the hometown girl of his dreams. Zack had been cheering for Cloud for two years before the guy actually confessed to his childhood neighbor on a visit back to his hometown.

Zack had met Tifa once before then, on a Reactor visit in Nibleheim, and she'd been friendly enough. Charming, sweet, a bit nosy and a lot funny. He'd liked her, but at the time he couldn't say why his roommate was so head over heels. She was just another pretty face, and Zack Fair had a catalog of pretty faces under his belt—literally.

But now, he could see why. Now, while she was standing in their kitchen, humming as she stirred batter for the birthday cake she was making Cloud, Zack got it. He studied her covertly from his recliner seat, from behind his book, and made note that her prettiness had blossomed into something substantial, and he knew from two days worth of banter that her humor was dry and quick. She was still nosy but less 'in your face' about it and more in the 'if you talk I will listen' way that made Zack want to spill his guts to her.

He let his eyes wander when she bent to place the pan in the oven, and he admired the smooth curves the view offered. Cloud had told him that she taught martial arts in heir village, and her long legs and toned arms gave silent testament of the fact. Upon hearing that little tidbit, Zack's initial question had been "Don't her boobs get in the way?" because the girl was stacked.

Porno magazine, high-school fantasy stacked, and seemed completely oblivious to the fact. His question had earned him a sharp two fingered poke to the sternum and glacier eyed stares for the better part of a day. Sometimes Cloud was too sensitive, Zack mulled, absently rubbing the spot from memory.

In the kitchen, Tifa stretched, arms over her head, and her tank top rode the smooth plains of her stomach. Good Gods above, if he didn't know better, he'd swear she was deliberately trying to drive him nuts. But unfortunately, he did know better. Tifa, for all her looks and sensual appeal, was guileless and naïve, and so completely into Cloud that even his Fair Grin did nothing more than get her to smile back. No blush. No lowering lashes. No breathless little kissy face that_every other_ female on the planet did when he flashed his dimple.

He flicked the page of his book angrily, his eyes narrowed on her as she piled the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. As if suddenly sensing his scrutiny, she turned her head. Over the top of his book he met her stare.

"Wanna play a game?" she asked, suddenly.

Zack blinked, blood rushing. He discreetly placed his book face down on his lap and cocked a brow at her. "What...uh, what kind of game?" he cleared his throat. _Smoooooth, Fair._

"I like checkers," she offered, striding into the living area.

_Of course you do._ "Oh."

"Unless that's too boring," she said, flopping back onto the couch. She curled one leg over the arm and leaned against the pillows. "Know of any fun games?"

_Sweet Ifrit._ "I can think of a few," he told her, and wasn't at all surprised by the huskiness of his voice.

The sound of keys in the front door interrupted anything she may have said, and both turned to see Cloud pushing his way inside. "Hey," he greeted, shutting the door with his heel.

"Cloud!" There was that damn smile again.

"You're home early," Zack said, and tried not to make it sound like an accusation.

"Yeah, Angeal told me to take the day and enjoy it. Being my birthday and all," Cloud shrugged his holster off, hung it up. "Something smells good."

"That would be your surprise cake," Tifa laughed, rising from the couch with her feline grace and making her way to where Cloud was removing his boots.

"You didn't have to," he started, but she cut him off with her arms around his neck and a smiling kiss to his lips.

"I know. I wanted to." Then, another, softer kiss. "What do you want to do with your unexpected day off?"

Zack watched Cloud's cheeks flush as his arms circled her waist. "I can think of a few things."

_I just bet you can._

Tifa gave a breathy laugh that made Zack glad he hadn't removed the book from his lap. Hand in hand she and Cloud started down the hallway. "Rain-check on the games, okay, Zack?" she called over her shoulder.

"Sure." He gave a limp wave. As Cloud's bedroom door closed, he couldn't help but add, "You really need to learn how to share your girl, Cloud."


	33. Chapter 33

**Phone Sex**

It started on accident. An "I miss you" turned into "I love you" which, in turn, morphed into "I need you" and then into "I want" and "I want" became explicit and detailed.

Breath hitched and pulse raced and Tifa had to ask—soft, not quite certain—for Cloud to repeat what he'd said.

There had been a pause—a collection of heartbeats—and she'd feared that he would feel too exposed and that he'd brush it off, but when his voice came back on the line, it was still thick, and slightly firmer. "I said that I want to be with you. Inside of you."

"That's..." she swallowed. "That's what I thought you said." Her hand fluttered above her hammering heart. "I want that, too," she whispered. "I miss you when you're gone so long..." Feeling braver, she added, "I ache."

There was a rustling sound and then, "Tell me."

So she did.

She told him the way she would daydream and how her breasts would feel heavy and full and how she'd dampen her underwear and how the thought of him made her touch herself.

He'd listened, and given soft sounds of encouragement as she talked. Cloud wasn't much of a conversationalist, but he made sure she knew he was paying attention. After a few minutes she dared to ask, "Cloud, are you touching yourself now?"

"Yes."

"Tell me," she had repeated his command.

And to her delight, he had.

It started there, that night, but it didn't end there. Now, long trips or deliveries were littered with late night phone calls. Sometimes, Tifa would wake up, his pillow beneath her chin, his scent on her skin and just dial.

It was reflexive, and she felt guilty if he sounded sleepy, but more often than not he was awake...waiting.

Tonight was no different.

He answered on the first ring.

"Cloud..." her voice was broken, breathless.

She thought maybe he chuckled on the other end. "Started without me?"

She flushed a bit, her fingers tracing delicate patterns against her slick skin. "Woke up wanting you," she clarified.

"Ah." She heard him move—getting comfortable. "I stayed awake, wanting you."

"It's been too long," she sighed into the mouthpiece.

"Eleven days, fifteen hours...sixteen minutes."

She laughed.

"I miss the way you smell," he murmured.

Tifa could almost hear his blush. He still felt awkward, doing this, revealing himself with words, but he made the effort and that made her heart soar.

"I miss the way you taste," she whispered. "Have I ever told you that I love the feel of you, in my mouth?" She heard his quick intake of breath and smiled. "I do, because you're so expressive then. You make the most wonderful sounds."

He groaned.

"Like that, only deeper. Needier. And then your hands will grab my hair, and I know you don't mean to but you can't help it, and I love that, too. That I can do that to you and you can't help yourself."

"Tifa."

"And that," she told him, her fingers slipping as she lifted her hips. "Gods, the way you say my name." She pressed against her clit, rolled her hips and gasped. "Cloud," she breathed. "I need..."

"Yeah," his breath was rough on the other end. "Me too."

Arching her back, Tifa ground her palm against her damp center and made a sound that was part moan, part growl. "When will you be back?" she asked, panting.

"I'm strongly considering heading home right now," he told her on a groan.

She laughed, breathy and soft onto the mouthpiece. "I want you here. Touching me. Your mouth on me."

"Tifa." She heard his breath hitch and speed up.

"Are you close?" she asked him.

"Yes."

"Faster," she breathed, slipping two fingers deep. "Take me faster."

"Fuck."

"Hard and fast," she gasped. "Cloud, oh, gods, I'm so close."

His response was a rough breath as he came, her name a rumble of sound and it brought her over. She clamped her thighs against her hand, bucking as she came.

Slow, she returned to her senses, falling back against the pillows with a soft sound. "Cloud?" Silence. "Cloud?"

"I'm on my way." He hung up.

Laughing, Tifa rolled her face into the pillows and decided to get some sleep. She had a feeling when Cloud got home there wouldn't be any rest for quite some time.


	34. Chapter 34

**Denzel**

* * *

AN: Takes place between Case of Tifa and ACC.

* * *

Soft grunts and sharp thwacks drew Tifa through the kitchen and out onto the back porch. She stopped when she spotted Denzel, who was—with intense determination—beating the stuffing out of one of her practice dummies with his wooden sword.

The addition of yellow straw to the head was new, and had her cocking her own head to the side. Hm.

Unaware of his audience, Denzel continued to stab at the sand bag. Occasionally a muted curse would slip past his lips, and Tifa frowned. Venting was healthy, she knew, but Denzel wasn't the angry type, and seeing him like that broke her heart.

She re-opened the screen door slightly and let it bang shut.

Bright blue eyes swiveled her way and Denzel straightened, pushed damp hair back.

"Hey." She greeted as she lowered herself onto the steps and leaned back on her elbows. "Your form has improved," she commented.

Denzel glanced down at the wood. He was quiet for a long minute, then, "Can you teach me to fight like you?" He made a vague gesture with the sword. "Instead of..."

_Oh, Denzel._ Despite the ache in her heart, she managed a casual shrug. "Sure, if that's what you really want. But I thought you liked training with a sword."

"Used to." His own shrug was brittle.

She sat up, braced her elbows on her knees. "But not anymore, huh?"

"No."

She sighed quietly, offered him a gentle smile. "I know you're mad right now, but that's no reason to give up something you love. At the rate your improving you'll be as good as Cloud in-"

"I don't want to be anything like him!" He tossed the sword away with an angry glare.

But you are, she thought. So strong, but so fragile. "Denzel..."

"I hate him."

She winced. "No. You don't."

"I do!" He dug the toe of his sneaker into the dirt, refusing to meet her eyes. "You should too!"

"Well, I don't," she replied evenly.

Slim shoulders trembled with repressed emotion. "How come?"

"Well, that's an easy one. Because, he gave me you."

At that Denzel's head snapped up and he stared at her. She simply opened her arms.

She bore the brunt of his weight, took in his choked sobs and vowed then and there that she wouldn't let Cloud Strife break the family he'd helped create.


End file.
